We All Fall Down
by Eren-get-in-my-jaeger
Summary: Mikaela Banes was dead. Deceased. But for some reason, she was able to think. And Mikaela knew that dead people don't think. And dead people surely don't wake up and find themselves in a completely foreign body.
1. Day I Died

_**This is an idea that's been bugging me forever. Here is the first chapter, tell me if you love it, or hate it. Rated for language and some other themes.  
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_**I don't own Transformers.**  
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><p><em>Dead: having passed from the living state to being no longer alive<em>

Mikaela Banes was dead.

Dead. Lifeless. Deceased. No longer able to smell, or move.

But she was able to think. And Mikaela Banes was pretty sure that dead people don't think.

The doctors voice sounded wrong. Tiny. Muffled. But at the same time, too clear, and too precise.

Dead. That was what she was and what she didn't want to be. But really, the last thing she wanted to be was a zombie. Well, she already was a zombie, right. A zombie that wasn't sure whether she had arms or legs or a mouth or ears. She couldn't tell, but her sluggish mind told her that it didn't matter. Whatever she was, was far from normal.

"Don't panic."

She thought she knew the voice. It slipped from her mind as quickly as it had come, just as something pried her eyes open. The world was a kaleidoscope, colors and shapes spinning and blurring together. Without warning, her eyes closed again.

There had been a car. She remembered that much. And screaming and blood and more screaming, like an animal being tortured. Metal against metal, and fire. Always fire. Burning. Something burning.

She remembered that. She didn't want to remember that. She didn't want to remember anything.

They didn't know that she was a awake, she realized. They still thought that she was here, trapped, in a foreign body, unable to feel the pounding of her own heart and taste the salt of her own tears.

It was a maddening. She could imagine time slipping by, the familiar voice rising over the sobs of whoever had come to visit her while she was on her deathbed.

Sam. His parents. Her own father. Bumblebee. The rest of the Autobots.

Then, it hit her.

Barricade. He had been the one.

If she had been….if she had been….

Alive. Right. If she had been alive, she would have been screaming and cursing and hitting. But she couldn't because she was half-dead, half-alive and couldn't move a muscle. The realization was clear as day.

She opened her eyes again, longer this time, and the colors swam together to form one, single object. A tall, red and blue object that seemed a whole lot smaller than normal.

"Mikaela, everything will be alright," his tone was steady, but Mikaela could hear the worry. "Try to be patient."

And then, her eyes closed again.

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><p>Mikaela's last day had sucked.<p>

The last day she would have chosen – the last day she had deserved – would have been filled with her favorite things. Chocolate. Candy. Pizza. Cake. Ice cream. The Autobots, too, would be there, eating it all with her, even thought they couldn't technically eat. But who cared. It was her fantasy.

Sam, of course. She would have invited him over. Would have said, screw the world, just be here with me, today. Always.

But that was a fantasy. Her fantasy. There was a reason why fantasies weren't real, just conjured up by the human mind. Her last real day had been much less delightful, and a whole lot more depressing.

She and Sam were both seething as they sat in the back of Bumblebee's alt mode. Another day, another fight. Bumblebee was trying to cheer them up – Mikaela, particularly – by playing some music.

Mikaela had snapped at Bumblebee then, telling him to shut up. That she wasn't in the mood.

She deeply regretted it now. But how was she supposed to know that as soon as the words had left her mouth, the world had erupted around her in an explosion so loud that it had caused her ears to pop and ring. An explosion so powerful that it had blown Bumblebee forward, causing him to flip and transform in midair.

Then, that terrifying sensation of flying.

Everything had slowed. She had seen Sam in the air beside her, mouth open, screaming like a lunatic. The fire had singed her hair and clothes. Chunks of rock had flown up at impossibly speeds, some large and some small. The small ones had scraped across her legs and cheek and arms.

One of Bumblebee's arms had shot out to grab Sam. His huge fingers had curled around the boy's waist, saving him.

He had reached for Mikaela next, with his other hand.

And then, in one, shocking moment, he had missed. Missed by _inches_. And the world had sped up and Mikaela had found herself hurtling towards the ground like a comet, her body engulfed in fire.

_Inches _from being saved. She would be asleep in her own bed right now, Sam next to her, safe. Unharmed.

_How quickly ones life could change._

* * *

><p>The doctors came again, later, prying her eyes open. The whole time her mind was screaming. Saying, <em>I'm alive, hear me, help me. Save me. Please.<em>

Their response had been to close her eyes and engulf her world in darkness once more. And then, from that moment on, her non-beating heart had been filled with hatred for them. Them and their instruments that probed her eyes and ears and mouth and any other part of her lifeless body.

Lifeless _corpse_. That was what she was.

Days passed. She could hear the murmur of the doctors, the racketing sobs of someone. A friend, she presumed. She couldn't tell who. All sobs sounded the same to her.

"Mikaela…" a deep voice said. "Be strong."

There was no mistaking, it was Optimus Prime speaking.

She latched onto whatever consciousness she had left, and held on for dear life.

She remembered parts of her life. When she was thirteen, and had been chosen for class president. An irrelevant memory, but for some strange, cosmic reason, it had popped up first. Maybe it was because it had been the first time she had been recognized as something more than just an attractive girl who got all the boys. She remembered three years later, when she had first started to drive. She had been scared, off course. It took a lot of concentration.

Who would have thought that only a year later, she would be riding in a car that drove itself.

She remembered Mission City, hooking Bumblebee up to the back of a truck and driving, screaming at him to shoot. She remembered Sam, and Optimus, and Ironhide, and Ratchet, and Jazz….poor, poor Jazz who had gone out fighting.

She remembered Egypt. Remembered seeing Optimus dead and Sam dead and hearing the sound of her own screams and sobs.

All of that seemed like such a distant memory now. Like it had all been a figment of her imagination. Like she wasn't here now, in some random hospital, paralyzed.

She drifted. Stopped thinking, stopped trying to do anything.

Then, it happened. She hadn't even known what she was doing. It had just happened.

Eyes open.

Light. An incredible blast of heat that, for some reason, she knew was coming from the bright bulb directly above her head.

A shout. Maybe Optimus, maybe Ratchet, maybe Sam. She didn't know.

She moved an arm. Her arm. Heard something, like the clanking of metal, but didn't care because at that moment she could feel nothing but the crystalline joy of being in control again.

Thump. Thump. Screech. Her arms moved up and down, up and down, along with her legs. Her neck arched backwards and the ceiling became a blur of color, the light seeming impossibly bright.

"_Mikaela, stop_!"

That deep voice was enough to make her hold still. How, she didn't know.

Her eyes focused. She looked down.

Sam. Standing there, trying to grin, but looking dumb because his eyes were wide and his lip was curled upward in shock.

Why? I'm alive, she thought.

She moved her hands. More screeching. She held it up to her face and saw the dark brown metal.

Those weren't her hands. Where were her hands. And why was Sam so small. And why was Optimus, who was standing before her, in plain view, not the towering creature he used to be.

She blinked, hearing the sound of metal against metal again, not being able to stand the sound.

A suddenly, as she looked down again at the brown hands, not human hands, no, but hands that obviously belonged to a Cybertronian, she felt her contented little universe tilt and slide away.

She screamed.


	2. Total Freak

**I'm actually basing this story on the Skinned trilogy, by Robin Wasserman. If you've read those books, you may recognize a few lines from the series pop up. I don't own those. I don't own the Skinned trilogy, nor do I own transformers. **

**Anywho, onward! Reveiw, tell me if you love it, or hate it.**

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><p>Blink.<p>

Check.

Blink.

She looked down, looked back up, looked down again, and tried to tell herself that under no circumstance would she let herself believe that this was happening.

First step: Denial. Check.

"Mikaela? Oh, God, Mikaela! You're alright! You're alright!"

The more he said it, the more Mikaela wished she would just fall over and die again.

Move hands: Check. Stare at Sam…erm…_down _at Sam: Check.

Sam waved his arms, and Mikaela wasn't sure if he was trying to get her attention, or trying to get someone else's attention. Nevertheless, it was annoying, and Mikaela found herself shifting, joints creaking, as she stared at him.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Sam, sensing her discomfort, stopped flailing around and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Your vocal cords…they're…um, sort of like Bee's. Just not as bad. Ratchet should get you fixed up in no, time, Mikaela."

She wanted to scream. To curse. To smash everything but Sam. How? Why? But mostly, _how_?

"I bet you're wondering how this all happened."

No shit, Sherlock.

"It was Barricade. He attacked us from behind," Sam shuddered at the memory. "Bee, um, he tried to grab you, and, like….well…"

He missed. Mikaela could only lay there, fingers twitching, mouth open in a silent cry. No sound came out. She felt weak, vulnerable. Angry. Angry at everyone and everything that made the world full of pain and loss and suffering.

"Ratchet was able to somehow transport your brain into the corpse of a dead female Decepticon…."

Dead? Female? _Decepticon_? Above everything else, she was a _Decepticon._ One of the ones who had caused the accident in the first place?

"Your body is….um….well, I'll let Ratchet explain it too you."

Her body? Mikaela shifted her large hand, the gesture feeling alien and familiar at the same time. She rested it against her stomach, feeling the metal, the wires, and the _heat _vibrating off the protoform. _Her _protoform.

She wanted to vomit, but there was a an emptiness inside her, and it was then that she realized Cybertronians didn't puke. Or eat. Or breathe. It wasn't her, it wasn't her, it wasn't _her. _Her humanity was gone, stripped away. No chance of getting it back.

"You're going to be fine."

Those five words were lies, Mikaela knew. She wasn't going to be okay. She would never be okay.

Oh, God, her dad. Her relatives…what would…what would they think?

"Optimus wants to see you after Ratchet runs some scans and stuff," Sam said casually, shoving his hands into his pocket, face red. He was trying to act cool and smart. Cool, smart, handsome Sam. But he was losing it. Mikaela could tell by the way he was rocking back and forth. Like he wanted to wrap his arms around himself, go into a corner, sit down, and take a nice, long, cry.

She needed a mirror. If they made Cybertronian sized mirrors. It didn't matter. All she wanted was to see herself, see what she looked like.

A monstrosity, probably.

She shifted again. Her eyes….or optics…or whatever they were called, felt heavier and heavier, like if she tilted her head, they would roll out her ears. Wait? Did Cybertronians's really have ears like humans did? She couldn't remember.

For the first time, she actually observed her surroundings. White room, back pressed against a hard, metal surface. The medical bay, no doubt, with Sam standing what looked like miles down.

"Don't worry, Mikaela, don't worry. You're gonna be fine. I…I love you…"

The way his words came out hesitant made Mikaela snort. He was just saying that. He would never be able to love her again, now that she was….now….

"Can you try to speak?"

Mikaela just shook her head. Sam's eyes lit up, and she realized it was the first time she had directly responded to one of his questions.

"Speaking is not advised."

Mikaela hadn't even noticed Ratchet entering the med bay, data pad in hand. It amazed her, really, how he was now the same size as herself. But still, that didn't prove a thing. It didn't change a thing. In fact, she would give anything to be that small fleshling again that looked up at Ratchet in awe. _Anything_.

"The damage was horrendous, but I'm glad to see that you're doing alright."

Doing alright? Doing _alright_? What the hell was he saying?

Mikaela opened her mouth, despite Sam's sudden warning.

_"Put me back_."

Mikaela's mouth snapped shut when she heard the sound of her own voice.

Metallic. Mechanic. No longer human.

She wanted to cry, but whatever part, whatever joint or wire or tube that controlled her eyes, wouldn't come up with the tears.

"Ugh, Mikaela, please. Let me fix your-"

_"Put me back."_

Three simple words and Ratchet was reeling back in alarm.

"Mikaela, we can't put you back in your original body," then, looking down at his feet for a moment, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Why not?" Sam asked.

"The wounds you sustained should have offlined you permanently. Your old body…Mikaela, its…"

"It's what?" Again, she was astounded at the sound of her own voice. It sounded way to loud to be her.

"Your left leg had to be amputated. The majority of your skin was burned, while your right arm had been blown off completely."

No. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be happening to her.

"I don't care," she said, cursing the way her new voice made her sound so _strong._ She didn't want to be strong. No now. She wanted Ratchet to hear the pain in her voice, hear the despair.

"_I _care, Mikaela. We all care."

"Put me back," she sobbed. Then, "you turned me into some type of freak."

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat. Ratchet actually cringed, gripping the data pad so tight that, Mikaela thought it might snap in half. He sighed and tossed it down onto the table, and Mikaela heard it clatter, her new ears picking up the echo.

"You are not a freak," Ratchet assured her. "You're lucky. Lucky that Optimus and I got to you in time."

"Whatever," Mikaela said. "Just…just put me back…please."

"We can't."

And then, Mikaela's head fell back down against the berth.

This wasn't happening.

"You are still Mikaela. Every memory, every experience you've had as a human is stored in your processors. We just have to get them stabilized before you can start to feel or thing like an average Cybertronian."

No. She wasn't Mikaela. The real Mikaela was gone. A charred, broken piece of flesh probably buried under pounds of dirt right now. That broken, charred Mikaela was the one she wanted to be right now. The one that Sam was still in love with.

Convincing herself was harder than she thought. She did still remember some memories from her seemingly distant past – her twelfth birthday, how her dog somehow got up onto the counter and ate half her cake. The next year, when she watched her cousin got married. Prom. Sam, going to college.

Sam, being killed and the brought back to life. Brought back to life, but still the same, old Sam Witwicky she loved and cherished.

"Tell me how you did it."

Ratchet stared at her blankly.

"You don't want to know the technical details."

"Try me."

He did. He told her how the brain – her brain – was removed.

Frozen. Sliced into razor thin sections.

Scanned.

Functionally mapped out onto a three dimensional model, axons replaced by the vector space of a quantum computer, woven through wires that crisscrossed and formed the equivalent of a Cybertronian brain. In human terms, of course.

How they had desperately used the Matrix of Leadership to bring her Decepticon body back to life. The whole thing had been a download, really, and Ratchet's words hardly made sense as he rambled on and on about the human brain and nerves systems and….

She couldn't feel a thing.

She didn't mean on the outside, like the feel of the smooth metal under her that dug into her protoform, or Ratchet's strong hand on her shoulder, or the sound of Sam's reassuring words. No. It was that, but it wasn't _just _that. She should be feeling nauseated. About to puke. But she wasn't because she didn't have anything to puke up. She didn't have a stomach to _hold_ the stuff she puked up. There was no hollowness in the base of her throat, telling her, warning her that she was about to burst into tears.

The only thing that felt relatively normal, relatively human, was the silent thrum of her spark. Like a violent heartbeat. Her brain – or whatever was up there – told her that she was horrified and disgusted. But they were just words. Adjectives pertaining to an emotional effect that modifies nouns relating to organic creatures. Humans, in particular.

Mikaela no longer qualified.


	3. Rehab

"Lift your arm."

Mikaela lifted her arm without question. The gesture was strange to her, alien. Her arm felt much lighter, yet much, much more durable. It was strange. She would have thought that a metal arm would weigh a ton.

Still, she hated it no matter how much crap they spewed about how she was going to be alright and how she was a living miracle. She wouldn't believe she was alright until she was back in her mutilated original body.

"I don't see how this is helping," Mikaela snapped. "I'm not cripple anymore."

"Just hush and at least_ try_ to understand," Ratchet said with a heavy sigh. He was the only bot Mikaela had seen since she had woken up, and he was already starting to become her favorite. He at least had some sympathy for her, instead of his usual grumpy demeanor.

Hm. She wondered how long that would last.

"Do you feel low on energon?"

"How am I supposed to know? Do I feel like I'm hungry? Do I feel like I need a drink or something?"

"You aren't human anymore, Mikaela."

"Thanks for reminding me," she spat back. Then, she faltered and looked at the ground. "Sorry."

"I don't blame you."

Mikaela sighed. "You probably don't want to hear me whine all day."

Ratchet didn't answer, but his expression told Mikaela everything she needed to know. His glowing optics were full of pity and a hidden contempt that had Mikaela shifting nervously in her seat. She watched as he sullenly shook his head in disappointment and turned his back to her. Fine. He could be that way. It didn't really matter to Mikaela.

"Can I at least have a mirror?" she said, reaching up to run her fingers across her metal cheek. Well, not _her _cheek. It had to be someone else's. She was inside someone else, really, a trespasser in another body.

"Sadly, Autobot sized mirrors haven't been invented yet," Ratchet said. Then, he frowned, optics staring up at the ceiling, deep in thought. "I'll have to get to Wheeljack on that."

"Sure."

"You sound tired."

Mikaela's head shot up, causing Ratchet to reel back in alarm. "Don't even go there with sleep."

"Recharging is quite simple -"

"I don't _want_ a tutorial," she snapped. Then, her gaze softened as she looked down. "I just want….just want…"

"Things to go back to the way they were before?"

Mikaela could barely read Ratchets expression. It looked like a mix between pity and sadness and so much more. She had to remind herself that he had suffered even more than she had.

"I know what you're going to say."

"Then_ please_ don't bring it up again," Ratchet said. "You're an extremely lucky femme, Mikaela. Be grateful that you aren't…."

"Dead?" Mikaela scoff. "I bet death is a whole lot better than being stuck in a different body."

"A _better_ body," Ratchet mumbled.

"Whatever. You think Sam will think I'm 'improved'?" Mikaela watched as Ratchet poured her a cup of energon. The liquid was blue, a glowing, bright blue that had Mikaela's….if you could call it a stomach….lurching. No. She wasn't going to drink that. It hardly looked drinkable.

"'Improved'? No. Different? Yes."

"Different. Just what I want to be right now," Mikaela snatched the energon from Ratchet, surprised at how firm her grip was. So strong that if she squeezed hard enough, she could dent the metal of the cup. So strong that if she so much as tried to hug Sam, hug her _boyfriend, _she would turn him into goo.

Not a pleasant thought.

"Where's Optimus?" Mikaela suddenly asked, momentarily forgetting the cup of energon and looking up to stare into Ratchet's optics.

"Meeting. The battle of Egypt caused quite a stir among your nations government."

Mikaela made a noise of disgust as looked down at the glowing blue liquid, grimacing. A silence hung over the room, the only sound being the soft clunk of Ratchets tools as he worked away in the corner. Mikaela sat, trying to think of something to say.

"I feel bad for him'," she said at last. "Spending an hour ever day being hounded by a bunch of nitwit government officials is not a walk through the park."

"Agreed."

And Ratchet didn't speak anymore after that.

The next few days were a routine for Mikaela. Ratchet was the one who eventually taught her how to recharge. He was also the one who taught her basic Cybertronian anomaly, right down to every detail. Needless to say, that was one lesson that Mikaela would never choose to repeat.

Walking had been a challenge. She had fallen over her first time, fallen her second time, and fallen on top of Ratchet her third time. The fact that she had been able to and leap to her feet without falling was a clear sign that she was improving, in Ratchet's eyes.

It was like therapy. Get up. Refuel. Head over to the med bay and listen to Ratchet talk to her about this and that and so on. Mikaela wasn't too eager, really, and she knew that Ratchet knew that all too well.

She went an actually had to lift weights. Except for these weights were the size of tree trunks and literally weighted a ton. Like a human would. She had to learn muscle control, and the woman who supervised her was a spunky dark haired woman named Trina who would have been a whole lot prettier if she didn't wear so much makeup.

"C'mon, Mikaela, you have to cooperate to be able to do this! Use your muscles!"

Mikaela was about to point out that Cybertronians didn't really have muscles, but something else entirely, but decided to keep her mouth shut because she had forgotten what they were called. Ratchet had probably briefed her about it, but she hadn't been paying attention.

Just like she hadn't been paying attention when Ironhide had snuck up behind her during her morning weight lifting and had begun to yell at her like some demented drill sergeant.

And that had pretty much been the highlight of her day. That, and when Ratchet had told her that they would be shipping in some new vehicles for her to choose as an alt mode.

As she settled down into recharge, she thought about Sam. What would he think? She hadn't been at the top of her game when he had seen her last. She had been zoned out, disoriented, and pissed off.

She swung her legs over the side of the berth, laying on her back, the metal feeling weird….but strangely right under her.

She held her hand in front of her face. Her fingers were dexterous and long, made of metal. A warriors fingers. She had the fingers and the body of a warrior who had probably killed countless Autobots.

She had asked Ratchet about it on her second day, right after she had taken her first fall.

"Damn legs…." She had muttered. "This Decepticon was definitely built for speed, not power."

"Roadrunner was always built for speed," Ratchet had said, casually looking down at his data pad. "But you didn't hear that from me."

Mikaela had just straightened up and not questioned him any further.

She rolled over, trying to get in a comfortable position. The med bay was dark. Ratchet had retired to his own quarters, telling Mikaela to holler if she needed anything. Then he had specifically told her _not _to need anything.

Her optics brightened as the door creaked open, light spilling into the room.

"Mikaela?"

Optimus. Standing there, looking as regal as ever.

"Yeah?"

"Ratchet informed me that you were having a hard time recharging," then, as if thinking for a moment, he said kindly, "you were rolling around so much that he could hear you from his own quarters."

A human habit. Shifting uncomfortably in their sleep was not something Cybertronians did, apparently. Mikaela sighed and sat up,

"Would you like to choose your alt mode than then go for a short walk?" He asked softly. "Sleeping in your protoform can prove to be quite uncomfortable."

That, and she was practically nude without any armor. She shoved that thought down. Ratchet had said that her spark was safely concealed behind her spark chamber.

Mikaela didn't answer for moment. Optimus seemed to get the message and hung his head, turning to leave the room.

"I see. My apologies for disturbing you."

"Hey!" Mikaela said before she could stop herself. Her voice faltered for a moment, and she looked down, almost embarrassed. "S-Sure. A walk would be nice."

In the dim light, she saw him give her a small smile. Her gestured for her to follow.

She swung her legs around, hopping off the berth, stumbling as soon as her feet touched the ground, refusing Optimus' hand.

"Remarkable."

"I know, right," Mikaela replied as she followed him out of the room. "C'mon. Let's go get me an alt mode."


	4. Visit from an Intimate Male Friend

Scanning had been easy. Optimus had instructed her through it, step by step, and, as she stood in front of him, admiring the silver color of her armor and thankful she had been smart enough to scan a Nissan 350Z, she wondered if Optimus would act like Ratchet. Telling her how she was better now, and that life would be alright and yada, yada….

So it made her happy when he only asked of her well-being and began to talk about something else.

And when he mentioned Sam, Mikaela sucked in air, something she was surprised she could actually do as a Cybertronian.

"Mikaela?"

"I'm alright."

"Was it something I said?"

Optimus stopped and Mikaela just about kept walking. She slammed on the brakes, stumbling from the sudden halt, murmuring an apology when Optimus had to reach out to keep her from falling.

"No, no, it's fine," Mikaela could feel her metal cheeks heating up in embarrassment when she felt his strong grip around her forearm. "It's nothing."

"You seem a bit flustered."

She was about to ask how he could tell, but she shut it instead. She didn't want another anomaly lesson. That was what Ratchet was for.

"Look….Optimus….can I ask you something?" She asked.

"Anything."

"Sam and I are…um, ya' know…dating and stuff. And I was wondering if we could still be able to…" Mikaela turned to face him, twisting her fingers together like some kind of diagram that she knew he wouldn't understand. Better to come out and say it.

"A holoform is always an option," Optimus said simply.

Mikaela felt her heart….erm…spark's steady hum return to normal. He had saved her the trouble of asking by understanding.

"I don't know how to…"

"Do not worry, Mikaela, I will teach you."

She smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>It was three weeks later when she saw Sam again. Three weeks of Ironhide yelling at her like a drill sergeant, and Trina trying to be helpful but only adding to Mikaela's stress. Three weeks of Ratchet lecturing her about her body and its new modifications. Like all that mattered. Like she was better off now.<p>

Finally, after three weeks of having Trina as the only human soul she could converse with, she was able to see her boyfriend. Dark hair, nice, warm smile. She had missed that smile.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said, reaching up to hug her finger, something she had seen Bumblebee do many times.

She was surprised that he still thought of her as gorgeous and not some freak of nature.

"I missed you."

"Missed ya, to," he patted her finger, and then dropped his hands to his side. Mikaela tilted her head and stared down at him. She wondered if this was how Bumblebee saw him. How he used to see her. She was almost Bumblebee's size, actually, save for about a foot. Like that meant anything.

"How are you feeling?"

Mikaela huffed, sitting back and crossing her arms. Words didn't need to be exchanged for Sam to know the answer to his own question.

"I see," Sam mumbled, toying with the hemline of his shirt. Mikaela picked up on his discomfort, seeing the way his eyes were focused on the ground, like it was the most interesting thing in the universe. Like Mikaela_ wasn't_.

"I'm still me, Sam," she said, shifting forward, joints creaking like she was some old Autobot. "I mean, underneath all this metal, I'm still me."

Sam looked up and gave her a sad smile.

"I know. It's just a little…weird and all," he said, shrugging, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. He was trying to sound calm, but his expression betrayed him. He looked sad. Worried. And above all else, nervous. Nervous because he knew that Mikaela could crush him without hesitation.

"Am I scary to you?"

"Scary? No. Different…your voice is different. You don't have to complain about being short anymore."

That drew a knowing laugh from Mikaela.

"And you're shiny. Like Sideswipe. You two both have the same paint job."

"Goodie."

Sam raised his hands in a placating gesture, stepping back. "Hey. I'm just stating the facts."

"Well, the facts suck," Mikaela said, "all of them. You know what its like having that chick Trina as your therapist or whatever? She's constantly all over my ass about how I need to work hard and prosper and not worry what others think, and then I see her sitting back, eating doughnuts and watching TV, not even following her own advice."

"I feel ya."

"It's like I'm stuck in some insane asylum. Crazies all over the place."

"You never know. There could be a few saints mixed in with the crazies," Sam cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Have you talked to Optimus yet?"

"Yeah. Last night. We went for a walk."

Immediately, Mikaela knew how wrong the words had come out. But Sam didn't seem to notice.

"Did he say anything?"

"No. He just sat there and stared at me the whole time," Mikaela said sarcastically. Then, "yes, we did talk."

"What did you talk about?"

"What do you think?"

Sam spread his hands out wide and stared up at Mikaela, eyebrows raised. He said, "why am I begging for answers? C'mon, Mikaela, just tell me."

"Stuff," Mikaela said, gaze drifting downward. She found herself tapping her long fingers against the ground, feeling the vibration of each impact send small jolts through her fingers. She wondered how much she could feel. How much she would be able to see and hear and smell….how different it would be.

Don't get too ahead of yourself, Mikaela, she told herself. You still have a lot to learn.

"Stuff?"

Her head snapped up, and she stared at Sam, saw him giving her that same curious look he always had. He was always curious. Mikaela liked that about him.

"Relationship issues."

"We aren't having any….oh, right," Sam shifted a little. "I get it. Do I want to know what he said?"

"We'd still be able to - "

"Okay, that's good."

Mikaela rolled her optics and leaned back, crossing her legs, watching as Sam came up and put a hand on the silver armor of her legs.

"Hey, Sam," she asked. "can I tried something?"

Sam gulped and nodded, and Mikaela reached down, fingers inching towards his waist.

"I'm not gonna drop you," she said when she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. But beneath that all, there was trust, right? He had trusted her so many times, and she had trusted him more than she could count. And, of course, Mikaela trusted herself.

Then why was she feeling so uneasy?

"Easy," he said when she gave a little squeeze. An accident.

She still needed to learn to control her strength. Ratchet had told her that after, in a fit if rage, she had thrown one of the tree-trunk weights across the room. Trina had screamed like a little girl when it had hit the wall, sending bricks flying.

She hadn't meant to. Even when Ironhide had fallen on his aft laughing, then had congratulated her for damaging her first piece of property as a Cybertronian, she still had felt a tad bit of shame.

She snapped back to the present. She was holding Sam in her arms now, one hand wrapped around his waist, the other free, floating beneath his body, fingers cupped into a bowl. But she knew she would not drop him.

She put him back down, quickly.

"Awesome."

Yeah, awesome that she was now strong enough to hold her boyfriend in one hand like some kind of freak of nature. Something to be proud of, Ratchet had said, that she was now something better. But Mikaela had brushed him away, told him off.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"So…um…Ratchet didn't want me staying long," Sam said, shuffling. "So…I better get going."

"I guess."

"And I'll come back and visit you, I promise," Sam was making his way towards the door now, looking back over his shoulder. "Love you."

Mikaela sighed.

"Love you, too."


	5. The Inner Decepticon

"So, tell me what its like?"

Mikaela dropped the weights and stared down at Trina, optics zeroing in on her small, lithe form. She had dropped the makeup it seemed, and had acquired a more unpretentious demeanor. Mikaela found herself crossing her arms and stepping forward. It occurred to her now that she was bigger, stronger in her new form, and that Trina didn't seemed the leas bit fazed.

But she was still her, _right_?

"What do you mean?"

Trina cocked one hip and crossed her arms, green eyes staring upward. She looked like a big, curious baby.

"What do you think I mean?" She snapped. "Being a Cybertronian. Is it different? Or, like, bad or good?"

"Well, Trina, why don't you think about that yourself," Mikaela couldn't keep the bitterness out of her tone. What was she asking? Of course it was different! Certainly not_ good_. Why, she would trade her new body for her humanity anytime. "How would you like to have your humanity stripped away in the blink of an eye?"

"My bad for asking," Trina had paled dramatically in the course of a few seconds. Mikaela was intimidating her. And she usually didn't intimidate people. "It's been a month since the accident. I was waiting to ask you. You know, let you cool down a bit."

"Cool down? You think I'm not being calm about this?"

Trina seemed lost. She just dug her fingers into her pocket and pulled out a stick of gun, unwrapping it and shoving it into her mouth with vicious ferocity, trying to hide something. Ire, it seemed.

"Look, I know you're stressed. Have you sat down and had a good cry yet?"

Mikaela tilted her helm to the side, then sighed and leaned back so she could sit down. She reached back, running her fingers along the seams of her shoulder armor. She could feel the wires and the tire that connected her shoulder, and then her two door wings. She was a freak, she knew. A freak of nature that would never belong anywhere.

And she and Sam. Sam had always been her future husband, she knew. She had contemplated over the fact of marriage. They were old enough, anyway, and in the past Mikaela had always thought of them to stay human together.

This had never been part of the plan. Hadn't been part of anyone's plan, and for a moment a wave of rage washed over her. Rage at everyone and everything.

She found herself squeezing her armor. Scratching at it.

"Hey, Mikaela, its okay."

"You're twelfth person who's told me that today," Mikaela rounded on Trina, staring her down, like a hawk watching its prey. "You know, I get looks when I walk around the base. They think I'm a _freak_."

Trina opened her mouth to riposte, but closed it. Smart of her, Mikaela thought.

"Look," she said finally. Calmly. Much too calmly. "I know what you've been through…"

"You don't have to pity me," Mikaela said. She let her hand fall to her side, and, joints creaking ever so slightly, she stood, wobbling a bit. But she was as balanced as ever before. "I'm sorry for snapping at you, I was being an ass. It's not your fault."

"My bad for asking a question," Trina murmured, blowing a bubble. It popped, and she deftly sucked it back into her mouth. She turned and started towards one of the storage rooms, heels clicking. Likely going to go rummage for some more beauty products.

Mikaela sighed as Trina waved her away, and headed out the door.

* * *

><p>"You should be able to go back in a few days," Ratchet told her. "I hear you have a house somewhere up by the beach, do you not? A secluded house where you could learn to control yourself away from the prying eyes of other humans?"<p>

"Yep. If you want to put it that way."

Mikaela swung her legs back and forth, hearing the grinding of her internal structures as she did so. It sounded weird. Metal against metal. She had heard the sound so many times, but never imagined it would ever come from her own legs. Legs that were now coated in a shiny silver armor that, from what Ironhide had told her, had attracted the attention of Sideswipe and had caused him to do something akin to a wolf whistle at her. He had earned a wrench upside the head from Ratchet.

And Optimus. He hadn't spoken to her since he had helped her acquire her alt mode. Hadn't approached her and given her any Guru-like advice. No lectures or anything for that matter. He had pulled himself away, and some part of Mikaela knew why.

"Why isn't Optimus talking to me?" Mikaela wondered aloud.

Ratchet froze. Then continued working as if he hadn't heard Mikaela's question.

"Whoa! Whoa! What was that?" Mikaela found herself smirking. "What was that little paused there….it was like time had stopped or something. C'mon, Ratchet, you're hiding something."

"That is a question that should be geared towards Prime himself. Not his loyal medic," Ratchet practically spat. He sighed and went back to work, picking up a wrench and making his way over to Mikaela. Mikaela cringed as he began to adjust the gears in her left shoulder, just below one of her tires.

Mikaela made a noise a batted his hand away, crossing her arms and staring at him angrily.

"C'mon, Ratchet. It has something to do with me and this….Decepticon body," Mikaela shifted uncomfortable and looked down at her own frame. It didn't look like a Decepticon body. Her own optics were blue, but that had been Ratchet's doing. But there was no mistaking. The way her body was put together was crude, made it look like she had been built by a first grader. Crude, but not as crude as some of the other Decepticons she had seen.

"Roadrunner…she was a wonderful femme," Ratchet dropped the wrench on the table and stepped back. "So wonderful that she attracted the attention of two very important mech's. Now, this was before the war. Before Optimus and Megatron became what they are today."

"Don't tell me…" Mikaela breathed.

"You get the picture. Ultimately, Roadrunner chose to be a Decepticon. Took Megatron's side instead," Ratchet paused, then grumbled, "foolish femme. The only reason was because she wanted a good frag from a bad mech."

"Are you saying that she was a whore?"

"No," Ratchet rounded on Mikaela, optics narrowed. "Optimus loved her…and then, she died during the Egypt battle."

"And then I came along and stole her dead body," Mikaela slammed her fist down on the berth. "Gee, Ratchet, thanks for telling me this now. It makes me feel a whole lot better about myself."

"But it's not your fault, Mikaela, remember that," Ratchet placed a hand on her shoulder. "If anything…its mine. Roadrunner was the only available femme, and when we found her, she was so….mutilated that we could barely recognize her. It was only until after that we…"

"Yeah, yeah," Mikaela shrugged his hand away. "Optimus…oh, God…he probably hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. He's just is having a hard time accepting that you are _not_ Roadrunner."

"Where is he?"

"Meetings."

"Meetings my ass. Erm…aft," Mikaela huffed and hopped off the berth, already striding towards the door. Ratchet arm stopped her.

"Where do you think you're going? You aren't done with your examination!"

"Whatever," Mikaela shoved Ratchet had away and pushed open the door. Walking down the empty hallway, arms hugging her body, guilt welling up inside her, threatening to spill over.

Her day had just gotten ten times worse.


	6. Not Guilty

**Two chapters in two days? Wow, that's a record. Anyway, a present to all you wonderful readers. Reviews are appreciated. **

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><p>The house was nestled in the trees, a long dirt road leading down to the beach. Like a dream house, Mikaela thought, as she stepped <em>around <em>the shed nestled in the corner. She could step over it, if she wanted, but Mikaela wasn't in the mood to flaunt her new found strength and height. Not in the mood to do anything, really.

If she had been human, the one thing she would have wanted to do was go inside, get warm, sit on the couch bundled up with Sam, watch a movie, kiss, etcetera, etcetera.

Well, that was all over. And now, if she even attempted to set foot in that house, it would collapse. Ratchet had suggested the garage. Like that would happen. Mikaela didn't intend to be holed up in some damp, smelly corner while Sam and the rest of them got to go inside and eat popcorn and watch reruns of _Family Guy_.

"The rest of them" meaning Trina, to Mikaela's dismay. Sure, Trina was alright. Sure, Trina was the only female she had seen since becoming a Cybertronian, and she sure didn't intend to keep it that way. Plus, she was Mikaela's_ human keeper_.

"Wow…finally able to breath fresh air. Or something like that…" Sam slammed the door shut, watching as Bumblebee transformed. He shot Mikaela a look. Guilt, he was feeling.

Mikaela wasn't all that better. She had refused to look Optimus in the optic ever since she had discovered the secret that she was in the body of his past lover. Talk about awkward.

"Talk about_ luxury_!" Trina hollered, hopping out of Optimus as he transformed, sunglasses perched on the top of her head. "Hey, Mikaela, how far away are we from Beverly Hills?"

Mikaela just shook her head and rolled her eyes, stretching her arms, hearing the familiar sound of metal twisting and bending, screws and bolts adjusting to her position. She had spent half the day riding in the back of a trailer pulled by Optimus Prime himself due to the fact that everyone, including Sam and Trina, had said that driving would come later on.

Clean, fresh air felt nice on her armor. Away from the smoggy cities, up in the forest, by the ocean. No human within miles. She felt oddly at home here.

"How many rooms does this place have?" Trina kept on rambling, hands on her hips. "Three? Four? Oh, by the way, I need my own bathroom and…"

She just kept talking. Mikaela, along with everyone else, lost interest quickly.

"Primus help us…does she ever stop?" Ratchet said, materializing behind Mikaela. Mikaela glanced back at him and shrugged her armored shoulders.

"Alright, so, what's the plan?" Mikaela finally said, once Trina ceased her blathering. "Driving test?"

"Later," Ratchet said, shooting Optimus a look. "Get yourself situated."

"_Then _teach me how to drive? Either that or teach me some ninja moves? You know, like Sideswipe does all the time?"

"Already eager to assist us?" Ratchet said, scoffing. "Not yet. Right, Optimus?"

He was trying to get a few words out of the Prime. Optimus nodded. A gesture that pretty much said, "yeah, sure, whatever."

Mikaela blew out a puff of air, a noise that sounded surprisingly like a buffalo getting ready to charge, and thudded towards where Sam was unlocking the front door. She knelt down and peered through one of the windows. A nice, modest house. Not at all how Trina was making it out to be. She smiled. She would have liked to live here with Sam, later in life.

"Mikaela will take the - " Optimus began.

"Nope. Bee can have the garage. He's a lot more used to it than I am, you know, since he practically…" Mikaela faltered. "Oh, never mind. Just don't let me sleep in there."

"Why not?" Trina asked, rounding on Mikaela, mouth turned down in a frown.

Because, she wanted to say, I don't want to feel like a car. Like some vehicle. Sleeping outside is the equivalent of camping, in a humans eyes.

"You may recharge outside with us, Mikaela," Optimus told her, not making eye contact. "Tonight's temperature seems reasonable, so there is no need for Ratchet to instruct you on how to activate your internal heating."

Sam stopped, pushing the door open, glancing back at Optimus, something flashing in his dark eyes. He just shrugged and walked inside the house.

Mikaela stared, lip plates turning down in a grimace. She knew she had a whole lot of adjusting ahead of her, and that Sam had just as much.

"It's different for all of us," she said softly. "Buckle up, Sam, buckle up."

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><p>Nighttime came quickly. Sam had fallen asleep inside Bumblebee, but no one seemed bent on moving him. Probably because Trina was asleep in the upstairs room, and she had been giving Sam flirtatious looks all during dinner. No one trusted the human not to bust a move. And plus, he looked so cute, sleeping all alone, hand dangling over the edge of the seat. Drooling a bit, though Bumblebee seemed not to care.<p>

Mikaela sat back out in the yard, beside the shed. Leaning against it so it creaked and shuddered, but did not collapse. Her optics were blank, the world engulfed in an eerie darkness. All her other senses were on high alert. Smell enhanced so she could smell the salt from the ocean that churned and frothed a little ways away. Hear something in the distance, helicopters, blaring sirens from towns that were miles away.

How wonderful it was. Like she had been hiding behind some cloak all her life. Shielded from all that was out there, from all that there was.

A snap. The breaking of tree limbs.

Mikaela's optics blared back on, and the forest behind her was engulfed in blue light.

She saw a shape scurry away.

A deer or a squirrel, probably. Or a raccoon. Then, Mikaela paused and thought. No, no, deer didn't stand upright on two legs. Squirrels did, but squirrels weren't the same size as deer.

A human.

Mikaela's optics narrowed. Oh, yeah, a human. Big whoop. Armed, from what she had seen. But she wasn't didn't harm her.

But the human had seen her, and that was the problem.

Mikaela stood. Slowly, so no joints creaked. The rest of the Autobots were recharging, done in. Exhausted from driving. She had told them she was going to recharge beside them so they could watch her, but she had told a small white lie and had walked a few meter away to lie against the shed. It had felt nicer. So much nicer than being cooped in her alt mode. Her Cybertronian body was still recovering from the injuries done to it during the battle of Egypt.

Mikaela darted after the human, stealthy, ducking through the overgrown trees. Her body was thin, her legs long, and she was able to run, only hitting a few branches.

Why am I chasing the human?

She slammed on the breaks. Too late. She tripped and landed hard on her stomach, all gracefulness and stealth abandoned.

Ouch.

She shook her helm, optics blinking. She was in a small patch of clearing. Leaves damp with dew clung to her metal helm, and she made a noise of disgust, peeling them away. She glanced up and froze.

The human was a foot away from her, gun raised and aimed at her forehead.

"Yeah, shoot me. Watch that bullet bounce right back and hit you in the head."

The human was a male, middle aged, all raggedy looking like some street person plucked from the streets of New York. His hands trembled as he held the gun.

"Put it down," Mikaela calmly instructed, her voice coming out in a snarl. Not like her. She didn't snarl.

"Your kind is like a virus," the human snarled, gun raised. "Like a plague that must be wiped out."

"Oh, God, you're one of those Cybertronian haters. Get lost," Mikaela shooed him away. "We're trying to help."

"You used to be human, did you not?" The gun was aimed at her face. Right at her forehead, the target plain as day.

Shoot, she silently pleaded. I dare you.

Wait? He knew? How?

"I don't know what you want, but if I were you, I'd get away," Mikaela took a threatening step forward. "Seriously."

"If I were you, I would get away," the man's finger curled around the trigger. "You, and you're little alien buddies. You're a crime. All of you. You, especially. Human to alien."

"It's not something I'm particularly proud of," Mikaela hissed, kneeling down. "So you made me follow you into the woods just so you could tell me to go away? Like a kindergartener does to someone they don't like? Dude, that's what the internet is for."

"I'm telling you that you and you're kind will be brought to justice for the crimes you have committed."

"What crimes? Oh! Yeah! Decepticons. Those are the bad guys."

"You are all guilty," the man growled. "And the Brotherhood of Man will make the world see what you really are. Monsters."

"How about this," Mikaela acted as if she hadn't heard him. But she had. And she was ignoring him, the one way to piss off an ignorant person. "You go find a Decepticon and tell them what you're feeling. I'm sure they would appreciate what you have to say about-"

_Blam!_

Two simultaneous blast. One from the man's gun. The bullet bounced off Mikaela's head.

Then the man was no longer there. Just of a pile of disintegrated bones.

Mikaela looked up into two glowing red eyes. Devil eyes.

Decepticon eyes.

Well...crap.

"_Roadrunner_?" Megatron sneered. "Good to see that you're alive."

Double crap.


	7. Three Seconds to Impact

Frozen like a statue, she was, standing with her head tilted upward and her mouth slightly open in shock or fear or whatever she was feeling.

Memories flashed across her vision, it seemed. A femme that looked surprisingly like her huddled in a corner, being stalked by vicious red eyes, like a snake and a mouse. Only when the femme cried out did Mikaela realize that it was her, Roadrunner. Also did she realize that she had never been trapped in a corner while Megatron stalked her like a lion, and that these memories were not hers, but of the body she had stolen.

Panic: Check.

Scream? Run? _Fight_? Yeah, the latter of the options seemed the most irrational of them all.

She chose to run.

Quick as a jungle cat, Mikaela's dodged Megatron's outstretched hand, stumbling through the forest as fast as she could.

Her catapulted over a fallen tree and kept on running, running, running, not feeling the least bit tired because she didn't have lungs that needed filling. Didn't have legs that would ache if you pushed them to hard.

But she did have a pursuer. And her pursuer was huge and bulky, stumbling through the forest after her, fast, but not fast enough. Mikaela's original body had been built for speed and speed only. She stumbled down a hill, armor slapping against tree branches. But the feel felt more like a soft caress than a hard slap.

_Run_, her mind screamed. Run, run, run.

A talon dug into her shoulder, tearing through the metal enough to cause it to stink. And then that horrifying, yet crystalline moment of flying as Megatron hurtled her thorough the air like she was a rag doll.

She smacked into a tree, rebounded off, and landed in the mud.

She cursed, tried to stand up, tried to scramble away, but to no avail. She found herself pinioned, helpless.

"Running will do you no good, femme."

Mikaela was squirming like a worm, trying to wriggle out of Megatron's iron grip. But he wasn't having any of that and he lifted her up with one talon, like she was made of air, and held her in front of him.

"Primus has been good to me. I ask for another femme, and he brings my old partner back from the Pit."

Mikaela growled and made feeble attempted to bite his finger.

Then, it dawned on her.

He thought she was Roadrunner or whatever her name was. He didn't know….that meant…

"Lemme go," she gasped.

"Do tell me what you are doing miles away from home."

He thought she was someone else. Didn't know…didn't know…

Mikaela gasped as he dropped her. Her head banged against the ground and she saw stars.

"I have been looking for you," he said in his low growl.

Mikaela was gasping and choking like a fish out of water. He had almost crushed her vocal cords. Had almost turned her into Bumblebee…speechless.

"I ran…I.." Mikaela managed. "Don't hurt me."

"Why would I hurt you? You are my _beloved, _are you not?"

Oh, right, she had almost forgotten Ratchet's story. Had almost forgotten that she was Megatron's lover, but it wasn't her, really? It was just Mikaela Banes stuck in the body of some willing Decepticon femme who had given herself to Megatron. Body, not mind had been given.

So why was she feeling some invisible tug towards him?

Shut it down, she told herself. Shut it down and out or else he will kill you, once he find you are not who he thinks you are.

"I'll ask you again, Roadrunner, how are you here? Did my dear brother, keeper of the Matrix, find you and decide he simply could not function without you?"

"Yes," Mikaela lied.

"And did you give yourself to him? Or did you remember that you still, and always will, belong to me?"

"Ye- I…" Mikaela faltered and did not meet his eye. They were just too glowing red orbs hovering in the air, the rest of his body consumed by midnight. There was nothing else out there, either, just a little bit of starlight and a little bit of moonlight and a whole lot of dark.

Certainly, the Autobots heard the gunshot and her shouts and were searching for her? It wasn't like she had wandered to far….

"You seem flustered. Has spending time in the Pit divested you of your speaking ability?"

"No."

"Is 'no' the only thing in your vocabulary? As an intelligent femme, I would expect you to be able to use more words with more syllables."

Oh, she had more syllables, but she was trying not to use language she shouldn't. Trying not to use language that would get her killed.

Survival. It did that to you.

Mikaela cycled her vents and pulled herself upward, joints screaming in protest, so she could kneel in front of Megatron like some willing dog. But she was far from willing. She needed to get out and get out fast, before he caught onto the fact that she was clueless. Not to mention a body stealer.

"Sire, I.."

"Hush, femme," Megatron tilted his ugly head upward and narrowed his optics. He growled. "Those filthy Autoscum have already detected our signal," he held out his hand. "Come. We will discuss the matter of your resurrection back at the base."

Mikaela looked at his hand.

Then back at his grotesquely put together face.

Then back at his hand.

She ran. Full speed, back into the tree's not knowing where she was going or why she had chosen that moment to run.

She heard Megatron bellow and thunder after her, and she ran, heedless, like a bull. Trees that once would have caused her trouble were shoved away and knocked over.

She burst through the trees and into a clearing, a small part of her hoping she had made it back to the home. A cliff that sloped down into a ravine littered with a few bushes but mostly, utterly, dirt.

Perfect for driving.

Mikaela gave a small, sardonic laugh. Life was just so cruel.

Mikaela turned. The trees seemed to be vibrating from her pursuers bellows. It was either jump or be a victim of slicing talons.

Mikaela glanced down. The fall would maybe kill her, or…or shatter her into a million pieces.

If she had been a human.

But Mikaela wasn't human. Not anymore.

She steeled herself, ran, and jumped, feeling the wind whistle past her armor and few stray leaves whisk away, and then that crystalline moment of flying, then dropping.

She dropped fast. Like a rock. A heavy, metal rock.

The ground rushed up to meet her so fast that she knew if she had been a human, she would have been panicked stricken. But she wasn't. Her mind was clear and calm and collective and was telling her what to do.

Three seconds. For a human, it was three seconds.

But for Mikaela, it was three seconds to decide.

Head first would kill her, definitely, oh, definitely. Feet first? Maybe a pulled joint or something. But nothing to major.

One second….

_Crash!_

Wires twisted. Armor dented, some falling off and clattering away. A huge dust cloud rose, like a mushroom, blotting out Mikaela optics and audio receptors.

The pain came last. Shuddering waves of it that left Mikaela gasping for air even thought she didn't need it.

And then….silence. She lay there in a pile of dust and dirt.

Five minutes.

Then, she had the courage to get up and start limping towards somewhere.

She looked up. Megatron, standing at the top of the cliff. If he wanted her, now would be the time. But he just stood there and stared down at Mikaela with his head tilted to the side and his eyes glowing ever so brightly in the dark of the night.

"_Run, Roadrunner, run_! Because when I catch you, I'm going to make you_ suffer_!"


	8. This is Home

** I hope you enjoy it,and reviews are greatly appreciated. You guys are the ones who keep me writing!**

**I don't own it.**

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><p>Mikaela walked and walked and walked until the sun was up, its harsh rays beating down on her armor and making her ten times hotter than she already was. It was like a sauna, a sauna that cooked you from the inside out.<p>

She had lost Megatron after she had leaped off the cliff like some comic book superhero. Her knees and arms still stung from the impact, but it sure was better than a broken neck. If Cybertronians could even break their necks.

She had considered going back. But that would mean running back into Megatron, and, quite frankly, as she sauntered along on shaky legs, she wasn't up for another game of tag. She had barely avoided those talons last time.

But while suffering at the hands of Megatron seemed appalling, trudging across a canyon seemed way worse. There was still rock and dust lodged in her armor from where she had fallen, the dust tickling the most sensitive wires and making her cringe. The rocks were nestled up under her scratched armor, and Mikaela didn't have the energy to sit and fish for each and every one of them.

It was like hell out here, the sun adding to her discomfort. Ratchet had said something about cooling systems, once, when Mikaela hadn't been paying attention.

Like that helped.

Mikaela didn't know why she even remembered that conversation. Maybe it was because they had veered off on another topic, thanks to Trina, who had been in the med bay with Ratchet, running her mouth.

"So, can you, like, eat?" she had asked.

"No," Mikaela had answered.

"But what would happen if you did?" Trina had asked, staring up from her position on Mikaela's knee, eyes wide with curiosity. "Would the food get all, like, moldy or whatever? You would be walking around with your stomach full of rotten food?"

"Enough with the childish assumptions, Trina," Ratchet had barked. "If you want to ask question's about Cybertronian anomaly, you should ask me."

"Yes because I'm sure Trina would _love_ to hear a two hour long talk regarding the mating rituals of your species," Mikaela had said snidely.

"_Our_ species," Ratchet had retaliated, leaving Mikaela sitting there, optics wide in shock.

Trina had just snorted and flipped Ratchet off, and that was when Mikaela had decided she liked Trina whole lot better.

But things had changed after that, and she had found herself learning that Cybertronians actually did drink energon. She had been taught the limits of her strength, too, and so much more.

But never how to transform.

Mikaela stopped dead in her tracks, the sudden motion causing her to almost lose her balance.

She didn't need Ratchet to teach her everything, she realized. She looked around at the jagged cliff edge and the sun that continued to rise higher and higher over the horizon, bathing everything in warmth.

Mikaela stared, shook her head, and then searched the sky. No doubt the con's were still looking for her. Starscream was probably hovering somewhere above the clouds, already having spotted her and waiting for the perfect moment to strike….

Not likely, but not impossible, either. She needed to transform, and transform fast, or risk being captured.

She shuddered when she thought of the way he had looked at her. Those hideous eyes and hideous face eyeing her like she was some tasty prey or whatever.

It made her sick.

Mikaela thought one word. _Transform_.

If it would have worked, Mikaela would have already been speeding off into the horizon. But this was Mikaela's life, and fate had deemed that none of her plans work, so she was left standing there in a position that made her look utterly and helplessly stupid.

Cue loud curse words.

"This is a load of bull…" she whispered, shaking her helm, reaching back from pluck a rock from up underneath her door wings. And a load of bull it was, having to continue walking out in the sun.

Using her _legs! _Pah! Humans didn't have the luxury of wheels.

Mikaela felt her energy draining fast as she walked, and soon she found refuge behind some gigantic rocks. Not at all as glamorous as she had hoped, but they protected her from the sun.

She rested her back against them, letting out a loud sigh.

Her life sucked. But there was nothing she could do about it. Being a monster didn't help your self confidence level at all, and Mikaela soon questioned why Ratchet had allowed her to live in the first place.

Order from Optimus, she supposed. But Mikaela was sure he would have chose differently if eh had known all along that she was in the body of his past lover.

Mikaela shuddered her optics and closed her eyes, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Then, joints creaking and groaning, she stood up.

To hell with sitting. She needed to drive.

She willed her body, willed her _mind _to transform.

No results.

She tried again.

None.

"To hell with….ugh…" Mikaela ran her hand across her metal forehead, door wings twitching irritably.

This time, she closed her optics.

Clear your mind, she told herself. Don't think about anything else. Just think how when you transform, your _fast _you'll go. How you'll be able to outdrive any human made vehicle there is. How you will finally be able to beat Trent and his posse in a race when you get home. You'll be _unstoppable_.

She felt herself shrinking, legs folding together, door wings adjusting, optics adjusting so she could see what was out in front of her in far better clarity than ever before. Parts trembled and molded together like dough.

The whole things was absolutely horrifying.

_This should hurt, _she thought. _This should kill me. _

But no matter how odd or weird the thing was, how much all her parts rearranged themselves to fit her demands, there wasn't one moment in which the pain surfaced. If there was any pain in the first place.

She just sat there, wheels rocking slightly, all jittery as if she had drunk twelve cups of coffee.

The sensation was incredibly. Going from one form to another was like a rush for her, like the thrill you get when you're on a roller coaster, sailing down and down, so incredibly fast.

But the utter thrill of being able to rev her engine and open the door without even using her hands, not even knowing how she could do everything.

The fact that she didn't know how to transform back didn't hit her until she was off, speeding across dirt.

* * *

><p>It was nighttime when she stopped, twisting her wheels to the side, throwing up a cloud of dirt and dust. The sun had retreated below the horizon, and the moon was out in full glow. She had gotten out of the canyon long ago and had driven across a long stretch of road that was old, with plants growing through the cracks.<p>

She had stopped because she was home.

She hadn't seen the place in over two months, but that didn't mean she was about to go running inside and jump on her bed, like any teenage girl would do when they got home. She would end up crushing her bed, and probably the house, if she did that.

Tranquility had changed. Dark storm clouds hung over it, waiting to dump a load of rain on the small town.

She passed Sam's house. Passed the high school.

Went past the power plant where Bumblebee and Barricade had fought almost three years ago.

Finally, she went past her dad's shop and didn't dare stick around to check it out. No one was in there, really. The doors were locked and the light were off.

Her dad probably thought she was still dead. He hadn't called her or even come and seen her even when Optimus had told Mikaela that yes, N.E.S.T would let him in on the secret.

Done with her, Mikaela supposed. Done with everything.

She almost missed the man coming out the back door. He wore a long black leather coat and a black hat. Not the most stealthy wardrobe. If he was trying to look ominous, he had succeeded.

But the thing was, Mikaela didn't _know _him. She knew everyone who worked with her dad. Bliss, Johnny, David, Frankie and Phil. That man didn't look like any of them, didn't look like the kind of guy anyone would want to be associated with.

Mikaela remembered the other human, the one who had trained a gun on her, just last night. He had said something.

The Brotherhood of Man.

Mikaela revved her engine softly and crept forward, watching the man get in his own black car that added to the whole bizarreness.

Oh, yeah, he was definitely up to something. Something bad.

Mikaela watched as he started his car and pulled out into the street, having not even noticed Mikaela, who had been parked on the curb the entire time. She had no internal communication, like the others did. Not yet. Calling the Autobots had gone out of the question a day ago, so trying to warn them, warn anyone, really, was out of the question.

If Optimus found out she was doing this, she knew she would get a lecture. But the thing was, she didn't care what he wanted. The thought had been in the corner of her processors ever since becoming an alien.

It_ bothered_ her. Bothered her a lot.

Mikaela followed the man anyway.


	9. Hide and Seek Sucks

It was like a game of hide and seek, Mikaela decided. Except for without the hiding. How weird it seemed that the man didn't even think to check and see if he was being followed, especially since he _had _been the one sneaking into the shop and checking to see if there were any goodies inside.

But why did Mikaela care if the guy was going around snooping? It wasn't like there was anything else in there. Any memory of working late nights with her dad had been vanished when she had been downloaded.

Or maybe it was because she just wanted to forget.

Whatever. Just keep playing hide and seek without the hide and don't be seen.

The man knew his way around Tranquility, it seemed, but that only meant that he wasn't a tourist. Mikaela already had his face already permanently entrenched in her processors and she wasn't about to let it go, but one thing was for sure, and that was the fact that she didn't know him.

The man parked on the curb, and Mikaela had a split second to decide. Park behind him? No. She wasn't that stupid.

She parked _across_ from him, on the opposite side, next to some bookstore. Watched the guy in the black coat get out and then shuffle inside some old, dilapidated building that Mikaela had never seen before, even after all her years living here.

She waited. Watched the humans walk past her and see a sleek, empty car, oblivious to the fact that she was there and watching.

Hide and seek had never been this much fun.

* * *

><p>He came out thirty minutes later, black coat pulled even tighter – if possible – around his body and that was when Mikaela could have sworn he looked right at her.<p>

Her vision in this form was perfect. It was as if someone had shot caffeine right into her very nervous system and she was alert, awake, and ready. Practically bouncing up and down on her axels, she watched as he began to saunter across the empty street.

Ditch or stay, ditch or stay.

Mikaela's engine revved softly. He wasn't a Decepticon. He couldn't do anything too her…

He passed her and walked right into the bookstore and that was when Mikaela breathed a sigh of relief – which would have been deemed successful if she _could_ sigh in this form – but the whole motion only proved to be utterly pointless.

The man came out of the bookstore ten minutes later holding nothing, and finally Mikaela's instincts screamed to run.

He leaned against her door, arms crossed, and that was when Mikaela got a good view of his handsome, chiseled face, a shudder passing through her whole frame.

"Arrogant little creature, thinking you could spy on me," his voice was like honey, poured out of a jar and smothered in sickening sweetness. Like the voice a Decepticon would have. Except for this person was not a Decepticon. "They always said that looks can be deceiving, but there is no mistaking that you are one of them."

How the hell did he know? How the hell could he know anything? He was just some stupid, ignorant human….

_No. _Don't think like a Decepticon, Mikaela thought. She knew it would lead to her downfall, just as the Decepticon insignia on her steering wheel had probably led her to be discovered.

How did he know that symbol?

Keep you mouth shut, Mikaela, and maybe that will save your…

"You think you are a real thing – a being with a soul," the man continued. "But you are not. You are a _machine. _You have a computer inside your head, designed to operate within a set of specific parameters. You do not have free will."

Oh, she had free will. She was, for instance, willing herself not to transform and smash the man into jelly.

"Not going to respond?"

Not going to give him the satisfaction on knowing he was right. Mikaela willed herself to be silent and prayed that someone would pass by and take it to heart that a man talking to a car must have something wrong with him, and decide to ship him off to a mental institution. Either that or call the cops. Either one would make Mikaela happy. Let him rot in jail, spewing shit to some other person.

"Now, I do hope you take my words to heart, creature, because if you really can feel or think in some way," the man shook his head. "I pity you. Nothing is more tragic than believing yourself to be something that you are not."

Mikaela expected him to turn and make some dramatic exit. It would held support her idea that he was a nut case, and nothing more. But instead she watched him reach into his long black jacket and pull out something, a microchip of some kind because it looked way to small to be a serious weapon.

Mikaela watched in frozen terror as he casually reached his hand out and placed the microchip on her hood.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, before I go I must apologize for the behavior of one of my followers yesterday evening," the man smiled. "You see, my organization is not bent on promoting violence throughout this troubled world. We seek to expose the truth to all humanity that creatures like you do not deserve a place in this world."

Mikaela wanted to laugh and point out to him that his follower was dead, but that would spoil the fun. She watched as he walked across the street, leaving his microchip or whatever it was pressed firmly against her hood.

Five seconds later, the pain came in an explosion of light.

* * *

><p>The Decepticon's were sure to find her, with her energy blaring through the network and all. Ratchet had once told her that Cybertronians's signals were easier to find when their energon had been spilled.<p>

She wished Ratchet was here now to tell her what the hell was going on.

Her processors felt fried. Like someone had set off a bomb and her head, resulting in one of the biggest migraines of all time.

It sucked.

She couldn't drive, either, and downside or she would have already been speeding off back to that little house in the mountains, wherever that was. But she couldn't even move – not a tire, couldn't rev her engine or open her doors or anything like that.

She was a sitting duck er…con. Waiting for Megatron and his lackeys to swoop down and pick her up, take her back where she would ultimately spend the rest of her existence as Megatron's sex toy.

Sex toy….ugh…the thought of actually bringing anything other than pain to the tyrant made her sick. He wasn't like Howard or Trent or any of her past, sex crazed boyfriends. He was like a giant, walking time bomb waiting to explode.

Sam was better. Much, much better and that point got her wondering whether or not she and Sam would ever be able to…

A sound snapped her out of her thought and that was when she saw the police car behind her, pulling up against the curb, the police officer getting out and walking over to where Mikaela was parked.

Mikaela couldn't see him as he walked around her. But she could hear him getting out something. And maybe…was that a pen writing something…oh, no.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

He was giving her a parking ticket. A fucking _parking ticket_. Slapping it on her windshield like she was some damn vehicle without feeling or whatever!

She wanted to scream. Curse, scream, drive away, then scream some more. Screw the parking ticket. Screw everything.

Mikaela watched, seething so much that her core temperature heated up ten degrees, signs flashing across her processors that she was overheating and in need of energon and in need of recharge but Mikaela couldn't do all that because that stupid man, that stupid man with the damn black jacket had pretty much fried her systems and paralyzed her.

Mikaela took back her earlier statement.

Hide and seek sucked.


	10. Counterfeit

**This is probably my favorite chapter so far. Hope it doesn't stink. Anyway, review, my readers, and I shall write more.**

**I don't own Transformers.**

* * *

><p>They came for her at dawn, the next day.<p>

The next day. The day after the day in which she had gotten a parking ticket and then, twenty minutes later, had gotten crapped on by some pigeon.

Damn pigeon.

The whole ordeal had ended with her being towed away by Optimus Prime himself – yes towed, like a car – down miles and miles of road and all the way back to the old house where Ratchet was waiting, alone, seething quietly. Sam and Trina were nowhere in sight.

He had quickly, and painfully, removed the microchip from her hood, the feeling disappearing quickly, like when you bang your toe or arm. Quick, then the aftershock leaving her gasping for air even though, technically, she didn't breathe.

He had looked at the chip with fascination, his anger at Mikaela quickly evaporating, shooting Optimus a look before sauntering off around the house, disappearing from view and leaving Optimus and Mikaela alone.

Mikaela rubbed her sore arms and stared down at the ground. They had stopped on the dirt road that led to the house, a little ways away from the actual compound, which meant a little ways away from Sam. A little ways away to the last shred of her humanity.

She couldn't look at Optimus. Not now, with him staring down at her, looking as disappointed as she was. Except for that Mikaela was disappointed at herself.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Following that human into the woods. Should have known that it had been some kind of trap.

She felt Optimus' disheartened gaze boring holes into the top of her head and she wished he would just hurry up and talk already.

"Mikaela-"

"I know, alright! I know that it was stupid and reckless and…." Mikaela shook her head, door wings sagging ever so slightly. She looked up at Prime. "What can I say? I'm curious."

"Your 'curiosity' was what nearly got you offlined, Mikaela. Had you no sense when you went running off, heedless, unaware that you were not only putting yourself in danger, but everyone else as well?" He was begging for Mikaela to understand, it seemed, and Mikaela could only stare down at the ground in shame.

"I wasn't thinking," she mumbled.

"I agree," Optimus was silent. Then, softly, so softly that Mikaela barely saw his lip plates move, he said, "did he harm you?"

"He...threw me."

The sudden flash of anger in Prime's optics had Mikaela stepping back.

"Megatron," Optimus pinched the bridge of his nose. "His signal disappeared right after we found….the remains of the human," Optimus shot a glance off towards the dark woods. "I assumed…_we_ assumed that he was pursuing you."

"He wasn't," Mikaela cringed and rubbed at her neck, remembering those talons curling around her throat, throwing her around like a rag doll. "He let me go, really. Could have chased me, but he didn't."

"Did he recognize you?"

"He…" Mikaela trailed off and stared. She had longed to avoid the topic in any ways necessary. She knew Roadrunners history, how the whole double-cross thing had pretty much shattered Prime's still beating spark. Talking about it would just tear a bigger hole and make Mikaela feel like even more of an intrusive ass.

But this time, the topic was inevitable.

"Yes."

"Did he say the name?"

"Yes. He said that I was still his. I didn't believe it."

The look of sadness Optimus shot her made Mikaela want to fall to her knees and beg for forgiveness. Life was cruel, she knew, but why so cruel that it had to shatter her humanity, tearing it away strip by strip, and then transfer her into a new body?

A body that was, chillingly, the body of Optimus Prime's past lover? A body that had been abused by the one mech Mikaela despised most?

The guilt was almost unbearable. It clawed at her spark, eating through it like some horror-ridden disease bred out of her own nightmare.

"I am just glad that you were returned home safe."

"Safe," Mikaela snorted. "Yeah. That was a nasty shock back there."

"I apologize for not coming to your aid sooner. We ran into a few obstacles on the way."

"Decepticons? Or humans? At this point, you have to watch your back all the time."

"I never intended for members of the human race to be our enemies," Optimus sighed and shook his head sadly. "But I have found that humans fear what they cannot understand."

"I hear you," Mikaela sighed. "It's what's driven our planet to so many fights…so many wars and so much destruction."

"The human species will grow over time, Mikaela, as will you," Optimus placed a hand on her shoulder. "This planet is unlike any I have ever seen before," he seemed to trail off, staring out up at the blue sky, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "To think of all the similarities between humans and Cybertronians's….Ratchet and I have both agreed that it is quite extraordinary."

"I thought Ratchet hated humans?" Mikaela said, tilting her head to the side.

"Not all humans. Just the ones that get on his processors."

"He and Ironhide both crack me up," Mikaela gave a small, metallic laugh. "Ratchet with his science and Ironhide with his over sized pea shooters. They make quite the combination, once you think about it."

"Combination…" Optimus looked at the ground, sighed, and then straightened up.

"Was it something I said?" Mikaela asked softly.

"No, Mikaela."

Silence. The conversation had gone from awkward to friendly to awkward in a matter of moments.

"Sam wishes to see you. The boy hasn't stopped asking of your whereabouts since you disappeared," Optimus began walking and Mikaela followed beside him. The house was coming into view, surrounded by a cluster of trees.

"He probably doesn't want me anymore," Mikaela said quietly. "Not after…surely not after after…"

"If he truly cares for you, he will accept who you are without question."

"Still….Ratchet should have let me die," Mikaela said softly.

"Yet he did not," Optimus began walking faster. "Ratchet was following _my _orders."

Mikaela wanted to leave it at that, but something was irking her, raking at the back of her processors.

She hadn't thought about it much, but she could sometimes feel Roadrunner's dead conscious inside her. Like pieces of the Decepticon were still left behind, having escaped Ratchets fruitless attempt at termination. That explained why she sometimes felt such _contempt _towards humans. It wasn't programming – it had just been the nature of Roadrunner and therefore the nature of Mikaela.

She could see the memories, random flashes.

Feel emotions. Love. Joy. Hate. Pleasure. All balled up into one. Memories, clips, really, of Optimus and Roadrunner, holding hands like some old married couple and laughing and smiling.

Just memories. But memories weren't memories if they hadn't actually happen.

Which was why Mikaela had a sinking feeling in the pit of her tanks, a feeling of desolation regarding the reason why Optimus hadn't just let her die in the first place, and had ordered Ratchet to place her in the body of _his_ dead old mate.

Coincidental. It had to be coincidental because there was nothing else it could be.

Then why did Mikaela feel sick down to her core?

* * *

><p>A day later, Ratchet helped Mikaela finally set up her holoform. And after that he had secluded himself in the shed, trying to figure out the whole edifice of one, tiny microchip that had – metaphorically – brought a Cybertronian to its knees.<p>

It was her first step out of rehab, it seemed, other than transforming. She had taught that too herself and wasn't afraid to flaunt her new skill. She would drive around, tires kicking up dirt and dust, most of the time aiming for Ratchet or Trina. It was fun. Entertainment at its best.

The holoform looked like herself, _was _herself, really, minus everything that made it internally human. Same hair, same pink lips, same green eyes, but inside her wasn't a heart that pumped blood or lungs that longed for air, no. It was just an unsystematic mass of molecules and atoms created by her very own mind.

Sure, it felt weird to be shorter again, to be able to lean against Ratchet or Bumblebee's foot and _not _knock him over. Weird to be able to look right into Trina's eyes and not_ down _at her.

It was human but not human. Fake but not fake. Mikaela knew because her senses were still hyped up, her hearing was still the same and everything, like transforming for the first time, was downright weird.

It was night when she finally found Sam alone, behind the house and lounging by the old, tarp covered pool that looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in years. Alone from the prying eyes of the Autobots. Just the two of them, Mikaela approaching cautiously, taking timid, dainty steps using her human legs. Trying to be a master of stealth.

That plan failed when she almost tripped in a puddle. She yelped and scrambled, Sam turning around from his position in the lawn chair and staring at her with raised eyebrows, dark eyes twinkling in the dim glow of the lights.

"Nice try, babe. A for effort."

"Oh, shut it," Mikaela said playfully, coming to sit in his lap, resting her head against his chest.

Everything was normal, right?

"I missed you."

"Missed you, too."

The words were spoken quickly, almost abruptly, and Mikaela knew she'd better make a comment before Sam made his own.

"I know that this is probably weird for you…" Mikaela snorted and shook her head. "Rephrase that: yeah, this is weird."

"Can you feel me?"

Mikaela turned and looked his straight in the eye, touching the side of his face, almost hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"Can you feel any pain?" Sam tilted his head to the side. "Do Cybertronians's feel pain?"

"I felt pain when Megatron threw me against a tree," she replied bitterly. "Is that a throughout enough answer for you?"

"My bad for asking."

"I don't blame you for wondering," Mikaela leaned against him. "I sometimes wonder myself whether or not this whole thing is going to work out. Whether I really deserve to be alive…."

"Why wouldn't you deserve to be alive?"

Mikaela opened her mouth, and then closed it. The whole Roadrunner situation was between her and Optimus, but she could tell that Sam knew something was up. No need the fan the flames of a future rejection.

"It's complicated."

"I know," Sam said. "This whole thing is complicated. Everything is complicated and I'm almost a little anxious to see how this all goes down."

"I like complicated guys."

"I know you do."

Sam leaned in and kissed her.

It felt like her first kiss. Lips paring, fingers massaging her back and fingers playing with her hair, the sensation feeling like nothing she had ever experienced. And maybe it was because it was her first time perceiving intimacy so differently. She could feel Sam's beating heart against hers, feel every little jolt or shock.

Something in the back of her mind was screaming, and Mikaela had to pull away, acting like she needed air to breathe.

A pretty futile attempt considering the fact that Cybertronians didn't breathe in the first place.

"I'm sorry-"

"I shouldn't have-"

"Its not your fault," Mikaela said quickly, hopping off Sam's lap and pulling her fake jacket around her fake, human shoulders and staring at her boyfriend with a look of sadness.

"Maybe we should try again…you know…later."

"Yeah."

"So, um, I guess this is goodnight?"

"I guess."

"I'll see you in the morning?" Mikaela inquired. Then mentally slapped herself because it wasn't like he was going anywhere.

Sam gave a small smile and nodded. "Yeah. Goodnight."

Mikaela deactivated the holoform, the action as easy as taking a step, before Sam could say another word.


	11. Hate is the Worst Medicine

Mikaela awoke from recharge late the next day, ducking her head as she stepped out of the garage ( her new, private room that Bumblebee had given up to her out of sheer sympathy) and was immediately hit with a blast of warm air, the sun beating down on her. Hot, but not as hot as that wretched desert she had trekked through for days.

Ratchet was already awake and nowhere to be seen. Optimus was gone – out for a drive, probably, alone.

Only Bumblebee remained, sitting with his back to Mikaela, refusing to make eye contact.

"It's not your fault," Mikaela whispered sadly, staring at him from afar. She shook her head and walked around the back, towards the back porch, where she could hear Sam and Trina's yells filtering out the open back door and they engaged in a video game.

"_Get some_!"

"_You_ get some," Sam swung the Wii remote in a wide arc. "_Ow_! Hey! Watch the face!"

"Oh, was that your face? Your face, your ass, I can't tell the difference!"

The game of fencing ended with Trina throwing up her arms and whooping happily, winking at Sam and cocking one hip to the side. She said, "haha, looks like I win _again_."

"Only because the game is rigged."

"Oh, stop complaining," Trina reached up and whacked Sam upside the head. She threw the remote down, noticed Mikaela observing, and seemed to reel back.

"Hey," Mikaela said mildly.

"Hey."

"Nice job," Mikaela shot Sam, a look, then her gaze softened and she crouched down on one knee so she could see the television better.

"You want to play?" Trina asked, hesitantly holding out the remote, as if Mikaela would be able to reach in and grab it with her huge metal fingers. Mikaela shook her head, not in the mood for play yet.

She had more important questions to ask.

"Have you guys heard of the Brotherhood of Man?"

Trina stiffened and Sam reached for the TV remote, going and turning the Wii off before flicking through the channels, muttering to himself.

"Yeah," Trina scratched the back of her head, coming to stand out on the porch, staring up at Mikaela with tired eyes. "They're, like, a Cybertronian hate group or something. I've heard of them, that there trying to negotiate with the government and get you guys exiled."

"Exiled to where?"

"Somewhere off this planet, I guess," Trina shrugged. "I don't even understand it."

"Hate group," Sam echoed from the living room. Mikaela bent down again and poked her massive head through the door. Sam was standing in front of the television, remote in hand, mouth turned down in a nasty frown. He said, "look at this."

On the screen, hundreds of thousands of people stood in front of a center stage. It looked like a rally, almost, somewhere in D.C. People held signs, signs spray painted with red or blue or black.

_Alien, go home!_

_Earth is for humans!_

_Breath, not batteries!_

Cybertronians didn't even have batteries. But it still got the point across.

Each protester seemed fixated on the stage, signs still bobbing up and down. And on the stage stood the man himself, the leader of the Brotherhood of Man.

Caine E. Fisher.

Mikaela felt her body stiffen at the sight of the man, his usual smirk, and, as he began to speak, the way his voice was like honey, rolling off his tongue. So familiar.

He was the man who had shocked her.

Mikaela listened to him speak, trying to decide if this was some kind of hoax. He was demanding that the government abide by the aspirations of the citizens and have the Autobots permanently kicked off the planet. Exiled. Voted off.

"Damn Brotherhood," Sam murmured, shaking his head. "Pisses me off, the ignorance of some people."

Mikaela cycled her vents and stared at Trina, who was toying with the hemline of her shirt.

"Has Optimus seen this yet?" Mikaela asked.

"Duh," Trina answered. "Most of the rage is directed at him. You know he's getting death threats, right?"

"Like they could do anything to him," Mikaela said, rolling her bright blue optics. "Whatever. It'll blow over soon."

From the living room, Sam gave a small shake of his head and stared at Mikaela, changing the channel yet again. "Doubt it. You know how people are."

As soon as Sam said it, Mikaela cursed her flaccid attitude and glanced at Sam.

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that we – you – have to be more careful."

"Does this have to do with me running off the other day?" Mikaela's eyes narrowed, and for a moment she thought she saw a small flicker of fear flash across Sam's eyes. But Sam straightened up and took a breath.

"Yeah. I guess," Sam walked outside, leaving Trina to pick up the remote and flick through the channels. He stared up at Mikaela worriedly. "I mean, I know that you're a Decepticon and all…"

Sam's mouth clamped shut, and his hand came up to cover it.

"You think that I'm-"

"N-no, that's not what I…that's not what I meant."

Mikaela's gaze hardened and her fist clenched. "I'm not a Decepticon, Sam, no matter what you think."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…I'm such an idiot," Sam stepped back. "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah. You are."

* * *

><p>"Has your holoform been functioning the way you intended?" Ratchet asked, poking his head inside the shed and rummaging through various tools.<p>

"Yeah."

"Have you and Sam…never mind. I don't want to know," Ratchet's lip plates turned down in a grimace, and he shook his head, watching as Mikaela sighed and sat in front of him, crossing her legs.

"He's adjusted quicker than I had expected," Mikaela said. "The awkward silence isn't as bad as it used to be."

Ratchet stared for a moment, and Mikaela could almost see the gears whirling in his processors as he contemplated over something.

"What?"

"Trina told me…Sam called you a Decepticon, did he not?"

Mikaela responded quickly. "A slip of the tongue," she picked up a limb and stared at it, trying to look preoccupied. Maybe Ratchet wouldn't ask anymore questions if she pretended not to care. It worked on everyone else.

Ratchet as too smart for that.

The medic reached over and plucked the limb from her fingers, flinging it over his shoulder, wincing at it crashed into the trees.

"Did you believe him?"

"It seemed like he believed it."

"Quit trying to deviate away from my original question," Ratchet leaned closer, the dim porch lights making his yellow armor twinkle.

"Look…it's not something I want to make a big deal," Mikaela began to trace circles in the dirt with one long, dainty metal finger. "I've been having flashbacks recently."

"Flashbacks?"

"Yeah. Except for they aren't my flashbacks. Not my memories, at least. Roadrunners memories."

"And you can see them with far more clarity than desired," Ratchet looked at the ground and cycled his vents, optics meeting Mikaela's for a second. "It's my fault."

"I…no."

"What we did, Mikaela, was replace Roadrunners processors with your. A simple switch."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You didn't get all her memories out," Mikaela shifted uncomfortably. "I can sometimes feel her conscience in there. Trying to talk to me or whatever," she snorted. "It's not a very congenial feeling."

"Have you talked to Optimus?"

He was the last person she wanted to go to on this matter. He was busy, for one thing. Plus, her theory was still growing strong. No matter how much she wanted to deny, the facts just kept popping up all over the place. The idea was like a fungus, growing and growing inside her head, nothing to stop it except the truth.

"Ratchet…" Mikaela began, closing her optics and cycling her vents. She opened them and saw Ratchet sitting there in front of her, twirling a wrench in one hand, optics curious.

"What is it?"

"I….never mind," Mikaela, joints creaking, began to stand up. "It's not important."

"Ah, well then. Get some recharge and I'll see you in the morning," Ratchet stood and headed towards the shed. "If you…need to talk about anything, I'm here. It has to be medical related, off course."

"Yeah," Mikaela murmured, "thanks for the offer."

Then she turned and walked away.


	12. Internal and External

The days had no shape. They passed, which was good enough for Mikaela. No attacks, no sudden visions of Roadrunners dismal past. Just Trina hanging over Sam and Sam hanging over everyone else.

Friday was pizza night, Sam declared, and while the two humans were frothing at the mouth of greasy pizza bubbling with melted cheese, Mikaela headed to her room. Her _garage_, and lay on her back, staring up at the cobweb littered ceiling. Outside, she could hear Ratchet chatting with Sam and Bumblebee warbling away.

She tried to block them out, just as something began to creep into her subconscious, touching it with cold tendrils.

"Oh, you again," Mikaela muttered. "I thought I had you under control."

Roadrunners conscious thought otherwise.

Mikaela rolled over, armor screeching against hard concrete. What Roadrunner wanted wasn't her concern. Shouldn't have been, since her conscious was hanging on by a thread, trying not to be lost into oblivion. Giving in would just give Roadrunner more strength.

Not that she had the energy to come back. Even Ratchet had agreed that she was long gone, her spark rotting away in the Pit. Her mind was just a vestige of her former self, what had been and what wasn't any more.

Yeah. Giving in would just be one more weakness.

Mikaela barely acknowledged Trina's presence. She came, jacket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Is it really that bad out there?" Mikaela asked, optics unmoving. Trina came and sat down beside Mikaela's massive head.

"Nah. I just thought you needed some company and all, with you suddenly being all anti-social or whatever," Trina scooted closer. "C'mon. What's the matter? You can tell me."

"You wouldn't get it."

"True," Trina frowned, shoulders sagging. Then, "but who cares. It's good to let it out every once and a while. Unlike Prime out there. I swear the bot' is like a rock."

"A rock with some cracks in it."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know…" Mikaela rolled over, ashamed by her own fatigue. Who was Trina to be at the end of her ambiguous demeanor. Then again, Trina wasn't exactly a psychiatrist. She heard what she wanted to hear and rarely gave any guidance.

"Optimus isn't perfect," Mikaela huffed and faced Trina. "Not in my eyes."

"Well…" Trina trailed off. "I was gonna say, 'he's only human,' but I guess that saying wouldn't pertain to this situation in particular."

They both shared a morbid laugh, the sound echoing off the walls.

"Do you miss anything?"

"What?"

"I mean, miss anything about being human."

"Yeah," Mikaela sat up.

"What?"

Mikaela thought. Oh, yeah, she missed many things. Her life. Her freedom of choice. She was practically a soldier now – all Autobots were – and Mikaela assumed that meant she was under Prime's command. What he said ruled. Being a human meant she could walk away from the whole alien ordeal whenever she wanted and live a semi-normal life.

Now she was stuck in the middle of it forever with no hopes of being what she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do and making a life for herself.

"I haven't thought about it much," Mikaela lied. "I mean, I guess I'm just trying to go with the flow."

"Liar."

"Wow I thought you had bought it," Mikaela laughed. "I miss food."

"Pizza. And popcorn," Trina licked her lips, shifting in her seat and then sitting on her knees. "What about sports? If you tried playing anything you'd end up crushing everything."

"Nice. Oh, and I miss sweat," Mikaela's honeyed laugh filled the room as she acknowledged Trina's baffled look. "What? Don't look at me like that. I was a runner back at home. Sweat just made you concede the fact that you were working hard."

"Yeah. Oh, and don't forget swimming and sleeping in a bed and - "

"Okay, now you're just trying to make me feel guilty."

"What's there to feel guilty about?" Trina pulled her jacket tighter and shot Mikaela a pitying look. "It wasn't your fault."

Mikaela sighed and lay back down, the cobwebs on the ceiling coming into full view again. If Trina was trying to establish some kind of friend-on-friend sob fest, then Mikaela wasn't interested.

She knew what guilt felt like. And it wasn't because she thought Barricade had specifically targeted her, no, the guilt resided with Roadrunner. Always Roadrunner.

Optimus would never speak to her again, probably, in fear or rousing up parts of his past. He loved her, but not _her. _He loved Roadrunner.

"Something else is bothering you."

"It's nothing."

"It's not good to hold in your feeling like this," Trina reached out and touched Mikaela's cheek. Sensors coming to life, Mikaela could feel every little cell and fiber, feel the steady beat of her pulse as her wrist brushed against one of her audio receptors. So _human _she was.

"You aren't my psychiatrist," Mikaela snapped.

Trina shut up after that, and the dull silence stretched on.

"Do you think its better?" Trina suddenly asked.

"You sure do love to talk, don't you?" Mikaela said dryly. She glanced at Trina and saw her dejected look, sighing and rolling her optics. One thing she had been a pro at doing as a human, and one thing she was a pro at doing now.

"I was just asking…"

"Curiosity is a good thing," Mikaela replied. "But mechanical isn't better, its just…._different._"

Trina nodded, eyes flickering down to the floor. Quietly she said, "I hope you don't turn into Sunstreaker. He thinks humans are, like, a disease or something."

"Sunstreaker is just a natural asshole," Mikaela said, scowling. "Like there aren't enough of those around."

Trina snorted, pulling her knees in so she could hug them and then stare at Mikaela with tired eyes.

"Point taken."

* * *

><p>"Does it work?"<p>

"If it did, I would tell you."

Ratchet groaned and reached up, jerking Mikaela's head forward far more vigorously than intended. Mikaela could only sit there, grimacing as Ratchet dug his fingers into her audio receptors, toying with the various wires and tubes that linked her hearing to her processors, much like a human.

Maybe the species weren't so different after all, but Mikaela hushed herself, wincing as Ratchet's fingers grazed across a stray wire, and told her roving mind that there was no way in hell that a human would be able to sit thought an agonizing hour of _this _and not scream.

At least Optimus had provided some sort of comfort, pulling his head out of the network and actually coming to sit next to her. He had spent most of yesterday searching each channel, each internet file, the mission as easy as snapping a finger, for anything relating to Caine Fisher and the Brotherhood. Mostly he had found things regarding Fishers personal life. Where he graduated from college and all that stuff that would prove useless if they were to ever encounter the man himself.

Maybe he had given himself all the impractical work just to make up an excuse to say that he was busy. It wasn't like Caine was any threat to them. Sure, he had gotten lucky with Mikaela, shocking her into submission while he went on and on, spewing arguable crap about this and that, but that didn't mean he had the skill, or intelligence to take out the Autobots and deactivate N.E.S.T for good. His followers were like everyone else, hearing what they wanted to hear even if it wasn't the truth.

"Don't underestimate Fisher," Ratchet had said the other day, and Mikaela had been surprised because this was _Ratchet _talking. The same mech who looked down on most humans with such contempt. And, lo and behold, here he was giving a jerk of a human _some _credit. The whole notion made Mikaela's head spin.

"Why?" Mikaela had responded.

"He has more political power than you realize," Ratchet had said. "It took one paranoid liaison to temporarily shut down N.E.S.T. Fisher doesn't just have congress, he has a hoard of willing, angry protestors to do his will."

Fisher would turn his whole ridiculous hate fest into a flesh-and-blood feud, Ratchet had said, humans versus the very beings trying to protect them.

But then again, that was Ratchet's paranoia at its high. Mikaela had talked to Fisher, but hadn't gotten any type of insight on his _true _intents or personality. Just a big wad of asshole. Asshole that probably didn't have the balls to pull any serious shit.

Which was why Mikaela wasn't as worried as she knew she should be.

"Are you done?" Mikaela said, snapping back to the present when Ratchet flicked a switch in her head. Literally.

"It should work," Ratchet replied.

"Test it," Optimus said, not meeting Mikaela's optic but standing up, wires that almost resembled muscles bulging. It suddenly occurred to Mikaela that, as a human, he would be pretty hot.

"How do I do it?"

"Just…" Ratchet looked to Optimus for guidance, and the big mech shrugged. So much for his guru advice when it came to teaching a newbie Cybertronian how to activate her comm. Mikaela sighed, shifting her feet.

"Let me see," Optimus began, fingers coming up to brush against his own audio receptor.

**"Mikaela?"**

Mikaela swatted at her ear as if she were trying to shoo away an annoying fly. She saw Ratchet nod feverishly.

"It works."

**"Mikaela, can you hear me?"**

Mikaela nodded, staring at Optimus, seeing a smile tug at the corners of his lips. "God," she said. "Its like you're right there, whispering in my ear."

"Try sending me a message."

"I don't' know how."

"Just focus," Optimus tapped the side of his head. "It will take a while, but eventually you will get used to it."

Mikaela highly doubted that, but she tried anyway, for her sake, and for Ratchet's sake. She was sure he wouldn't want to go on a scavenger hunt inside her head again.

**"Optimus?"**

Mikaela just thought the words, her processors seeming to comprehend, interpret, and send them along a linked network so fast that she could barely understand it herself.

**"Loud and clear."**

Mikaela couldn't help the sudden laugh that welled up in her throat.

"You're welcome," Ratchet mumbled, sighing, turning to the side. "Internal communications will come in handy, soon."

Mikaela barely even noticed Sam approaching. Mikaela looked for his shadow, but Trina was nowhere around.

"Mastered a new skill," Sam patted her leg. "What's next? Learning how to do kickass moves like Sideswipe?"

"How come Sideswipe gets all the credit?" Ratchet called from the shed. "I do _plenty_ of 'kickass' moves!"

Sam snorted, unable to contain his laughter.

"Sideswipe has wheels, Ratchet," Mikaela replied. Then, thinking, she said, "I'm gonna have to ask Ratchet for a pair of those."

"Not until you learn," Optimus said, kneeling down to face Sam. "How are you, Sam."

"Good," Sam gave a languid wave. "Can I borrow Mikaela for a second? You know, if Ratchet isn't done with her."

Optimus nodded, shooting Mikaela a loot before standing to his full height and thudding over to Ratchet.

"Where are we going?" Mikaela asked as they began to walk.

"You'll see," Sam replied.

"Sam…"

"It's a surprise!" Sam said, and he shushed her when she tried to speak again. "Change of topic. What was with the awkwardness between you and the Boss?"

Sam was a master at changing the subject. Mikaela almost stopped walking, but she pushed forward, content to not let her emotions show.

Finally, she said, "It's nothing. You wouldn't understand."


	13. Consider the Facts

What an odd couple, Mikaela thought. Her and Sam, walking down the beach, Mikaela's heavy footsteps kicking up sand, and Sam's own footsteps making small grooves.

Sam, beside her, ten times her size, unable to hold her hand like a real couple would. It was Bizarre, really that Sam wasn't even commenting, staring up at her, dark eyes twinkling. Such pretty eyes he had, Mikaela thought. Why couldn't her eyes be like that? Why did they have to be like this? _Metallic_? _Glowing_? Unnatural to her.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"This is a nice surprise," Mikaela glanced out at the twinkling water and calm waves, the sun just beginning to set. She could see the back of the house, just atop the cliff. It was more of a lagoon, really, a private beach.

Mikaela wanted to keep it that way. Give her and Sam a special place to be human together. Or something like that.

Keep dreaming, Mikaela thought. Nothing was going to get her back to her original body. She had been able to put it in the back of her mind up until now. But she had known, and still knew now, that she would never be able to avoid it. It would always be with her, no matter how much Ratchet told her that the past was irrelevant, that she was different now, how Sam had to appreciate and accept the new her. He was partially right, of course, Sam did have to accept the new her. Maybe not appreciate it, but acceptance would work. And he was doing a good job at not cringing when they kissed.

Kissing him had been strange, she remembered. Alien. Just like _her_.

"Whatcha thinking about?"

"Stuff…" Mikaela said playfully, nudging him with her foot lightly enough that he laughed. He reached down and picked up a shell, running his fingers over it before tossing it to the side.

"This is a good spot," Mikaela said, sighing and flopping down on her rear. The motion sent sand flying, and Mikaela wiggled a bit to get comfortable. Beside her, Sam sat down and lay on his back.

"Ugh," Mikaela wiggled again. "The sand keeps getting stuck up under my armor."

"Well that's not a sentence you hear every day," Sam said, sighing and winking at Mikaela. "Seriously. No offense, but that came out really weird."

"Sucks for you. Sucks worse to be me," Mikaela replied.

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Bumblebee thinks it's his fault," Sam said without preamble. He had shifted so he lay on his side, gazing into Mikaela's glowing blue optics. But Mikaela knew that he was analyzing her, looking her over, noticing the worn symbols etched into the side of her helm.

"I know. It's not," Mikaela rotated her massive head to look at Sam. "I mean, he didn't mean to miss. He caught you, luckily. If not you would've ended up like me." Mikaela gestured down at her slim, metal body, grimacing.

She saw Sam shudder at the thought, then catch himself and give Mikaela a sullen laugh.

Yeah, Mikaela thought. That would have been ironic. Two humans with Shakespeare worthy history turned into machines and then paired up again, the perfectly dysfunctional Romeo and Juliet.

Both dead. But then, unlike Romeo and Juliet, both somehow alive.

"What a story that would be," Mikaela murmured.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You've been saying 'nothing' a lot, lately," Sam's skeptical tone had Mikaela groaning and she draped the back of her hand over her optics in exasperation.

"Fine. It's has nothing to do with you, Sam, I promise," Mikaela laughed and watched as Sam's mouth turned down in a scowl.

"Fair enough."

"Tell Bumblebee what I said, please. You're closest to him."

Mikaela hadn't even needed to plead. Sam nodded and sat up, taking handfuls of sand before letting it slide through his fingers. His mind was elsewhere, far away.

Mikaela had activated her holoform, the gesture becoming more and more natural to her now, like clapping your hands of blinking on command. Easy, right, except for the part where everything seems normal and abnormal at the same time. The surroundings were too small. Sam _himself_ was too small, and too close.

He leaned in and kissed her forehead, Mikaela snuggling against his chest.

"I never thought that I'd be kissing you again," Sam said, his lips brushing against her ear.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Pulling away, Sam's dark eyes flew directly towards the ground again. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form the words.

"I was scared. You know, when you were in the hospital and all. And Ratchet was screaming and I was screaming and you were…well….I don't know quite what you were."

"Yeah."

"I thought you were dead."

"I _was _dead," Mikaela closed her eyes, her perfect memory coming up with a replay of the event. She had never searched her memory 'files' for anything concerning the incident. It was the past, and, as Ratchet had drilled into her processors time and time again, the past was irrelevant. Forward was the only way to go, and looking back would just make everything worse.

But now that Sam had brought it up, she remembered everything. The doctors voices. Optimus speaking and people crying. People she knew but couldn't place under a correct name.

"But Ratchet saved you."

"Saved… placed under some awful curse…I don't know what it is."

"At least you're alive," Sam, kissed her again, once on the forehead, once on the nose, and then once on the mouth. "I'm okay with whatever form you take."

Liar. Mikaela could feel him, under her, hands trembling just a slight bit. Anxious. Afraid. The emotions radiated off him like a bad smell.

Mikaela ignored it and kissed him again because that was just the kind of girl she was.

* * *

><p>"There," Ratchet said, fingers pulling at a wire in her shoulder. Mikaela winced and hissed, batting at his hand. "All done, finally."<p>

Mikaela shifted her shoulder, feeling each joint rotate effortlessly. No more groaning and creaking, no more feeling like she had gotten hit by a bus. She moved her legs, sighing in relief when they didn't ache.

"You are fully repaired. Be grateful," Ratchet said, patting Mikaela on the back. "It could have been worse."

"It was worse."

"Enough with the self pitying," Ratchet snapped. He shook his head and rubbed his optics. "We've all heard enough of it already."

And then he was gone, leaving Mikaela sitting out in the grass and picking at each individual strand. She almost missed Optimus' heavy footsteps approaching, and didn't meet his eye when he sat down beside her.

"Ratchet's right, you know," he said sullenly.

"Eavesdropping?"

"I just happen to catch a segment of your conversation."

"Ah," Mikaela snorted, still not wanting to look him in the eye. "It makes for a nice change. You, talking to me and all."

"I understand."

"Yeah."

Mikaela felt Optimus shift beside her, flattening out a good portion of the grass. He gave a heavy sigh and asked the one question Mikaela dreaded.

"Have I done anything to upset you, Mikaela?"

Mikaela didn't know. Had he? Was her shocking theory right?

"No…" Mikaela played with the grass, pulling out handfuls and letting it drop, watching as it flowed in the wind, some blowing back and sticking to her own armor.

"Good," Optimus shifted again, and Mikaela finally found the courage to look into his drained, blue eyes.

The silence stretched on, Mikaela's finger plucking quickly at the grass.

"This is probably the most awkward conversation you've had in a long time," she finally said.

Optimus didn't respond, taking a moment to contemplate over her words, but his facial features betrayed him. Mikaela threw back her head and laughed into the warm night air, her whole frame shaking. "Don't worry about it," she said.

"Humans hate being put in 'awkward' situations, do they not?"

"Humans," Mikaela said, shrugging. "Not me," she sighed, fingers tightening around a fistful of grass. "Well, there I go again. Separating myself from them."

"You are _not _one of them," Optimus reached out, his fingers curling around Mikaela's deadly talons. "Mikaela, you _must_ accept your fate."

"It's harder than it seems."

Optimus cycled his vents, his fingers curling around hers even tighter. "While I have never been in a predicament such as yours, Mikaela, I do know one thing. That you are a strong, determined femme who never gives up."

"Thanks," she replied bitterly. "Strong..."

"You sound doubtful."

"How am I supposed to sound? Full of joy and vigor at the fact that I've lost my humanity?"

"Ratchet did everything he could, but in the end, his results to revive you proved futile," Optimus was practically pleading as Mikaela stood up, brushing grass off her thighs. "_Please _just let us help you."

"Doing 'everything he could' would have been letting me die," Mikaela registered the hurt in Optimus' optics, a small flicker, and then, shaking her head, said, "but….I guess you're right. Acceptance is the only way."

Optimus was silent, his lip plates pulled into a tight line.

"I'm glad that you understand."

"Yeah. Me too," Mikaela gave a sad smile. "Now, I'm going back to my room."

"Yes. A nice, long recharge might do us both some good," Optimus began to stand, slowly, taking his time.

By her room, she meant her garage. But she was over that part. Over with everything else, really.

"Night, Optimus," she said softly.

"Goodnight."

She went without another word.


	14. Like Father like Daughter

Mikaela got the call the next day.

Of course, the theory that others out there, her relatives, close friends, maybe, were worried about her had practically flown from her mind. There was just now, there was no then. Then was irrelevant, as Ratchet had so boldly stated. Here is here, now was now.

Mikaela had been smart enough to read between the lines, too understand what the med bot was really implying. Letting go of her past human friends was the first step into acceptance. The first, and the easiest, Ratchet had said, since Mikaela's popularity in Tranquility was dwindling. After her breakup with Trent, not many guys had lusted after her. Rumor had already spread that she had cheated on Trent. A lying, deceptive slut, they had put it, hanging around with that nonentity Sam Witwicky.

Whatever. Let them hate, Mikaela thought as she plucked a leaf off her arm, and then let them gawk when they saw what she had become.

But then again, her change had been for the worse, not the better. Trent and his lackeys would probably deprive pleasure out of seeing her, the mighty Mikaela Banes, her humanity shredded away and replaced with cold metal. Even as her human form sat in Sam's lap, not the least bit cold as a sharp wind brushed across her arms, the thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

"You cold? Sam wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.

"No, I don-"

"_Mikaela!" _The shrill cry nearly caused Mikaela to topple off Sam's lap and into a heap on the wooden porch floor. Trina was bounding outside, a glittering red cell phone at hand. A cell phone that Mikaela's remembered all to well.

"You got a call."

"Who?" Mikaela eyed the phone as if it would give her the answer. But she already knew, having a vague premonition by the way Trina's lips pulled upward in a smile.

"Your dad."

Mikaela blinked. Sam's eyebrows rose.

"What?"

"Yeah," Trina shrugged as if it were no big deal. "He wants to talk to you."

Mikaela's fingers curled around the phone, and her mouth opened and closed, opened and closed like a fish out of water. Sam cleared his throat, patting Mikaela on the back, and going inside with Trina without another word.

Mikaela pressed the phone to her ear, the metal sensitive against her fake skin, the noise sensitive as it vibrated through her fake eardrums.

"Mikaela?"

Mikaela sucked in a breath, her fingers tightening around the device so tight that, for a moment, she feared it might break. His voice was so familiar, yet so alien. But she had missed that voice.

"Hi, Dad," she replied softly.

"W-where are you? I tried to call you…you didn't answer…"

"I know," Mikaela looked up at the sky for a moment before answering. "I'm with some friends. I'm fine, Dad."

Her Dad laughed. "I know that you're a big girl, Mikaela. You can take care of yourself. But sometimes…"

"…You worry about me. I know," Mikaela laughed. "I get it. God, I haven't seen you in so long. Ever since…." She trailed off, biting her lip.

Mikaela didn't even know if he knew about the accident. She had thought, originally, that he had been alerted, but he had never called. Optimus hadn't spoken to him, she was sure, or he would have been at the hospital with her. Would have been gawking up at Ratchet probably, and mourning over his dead daughter. His dead daughter whose fate was worse death itself.

She hadn't recognized him in the chorus of crying voices that day.

"Mikaela…" he said reluctantly.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Do you want to talk about anything?"

Here he was, playing the role of mommy. Mikaela had known him all her life, but had never heard him sound so worried.

"No, I'm fine."

A noise in the background, then a heavy sigh. Mikaela held the phone, waiting for a reply with baited breath. A cool breeze wafted across her skin, and she shivered. But not because of the cold.

"Do you want to meet somewhere?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know that you're with friends and all, probably partying or whatnot, but can I meet you somewhere? Just so we can have a father-daughter chat?" His voice was suddenly full of humor as he said, "you always loved those. Father-daughter bonding."

Mikaela laughed. "Yeah," she said. "I remember."

"So…wherever you are."

"Wherever _you _are."

"I'm in Synapsis."

Mikaela breath hitched and she said, "oh, the loveliest city in California. Tell you what, Dad, I'll meet you there tomorrow. We can just call and navigate ourselves to each other when we get there. I mean, you know Synapsis better than I do, apparently."

"Sounds good."

"Okay," she replied. "Well…I guess that this is bye."

"Yeah. Later. I love you, sweetheart."

"Love you too, Dad."

She hung up.

* * *

><p>"You aren't going."<p>

Mikaela wanted to slap Ratchet. Slap the jerk right out off him as he stood with his back too her, Optimus beside him, facing her with his arms crossed over his massive chest.

Mikaela cycled her vents and held her hands up in exasperation.

"Look, he's my dad, no some psycho creepo dude," Mikaela words came out harsh and clipped.

"I'm not worried about 'psycho creepo dudes,' Mikaela," Ratchet replied. "You know what I mean. You aren't going there by yourself."

Mikaela gulped, like there was anything to go down in the first place, and planted her hands firmly on her hips. She shot Optimus a glare and gestured with her hand.

"Are you really going to let him…" Mikaela's lips couldn't find the right word. "Whatever he's doing? C'mon, at least back me up a little."

"I _somewhat _agree with Ratchet when it comes to sending you off on your own. We cannot risk losing you a second time, Mikaela," his words were firm, but his gaze was soft as he stepped forward. "I know that your father means a lot to you, Mikaela."

"No shit, Sherlock," she responded.

"That is why_ I_ will accompany you."

Ratchet turned, wrench in hand, reared back and ready to swing. Mikaela waited, but he dropped his hand, sighed, and shook his head. "I hope you know what you're getting into."

"We do," Optimus replied, turning and addressing Ratchet. "It will benefit both of us. N.E.S.T has requested to meet me later tomorrow, to pick up a few things."

"What things?" Mikaela asked.

Optimus didn't respond. Mikaela watched as he shot Ratchet a look, and Ratchet nodded apprehensively going back to work, only to drop his things and turn again when Mikaela decided to make herself heard.

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Mikaela threw up her hands. "Are we working on the buddy system now? I'm a big girl. Synapsis is just a few miles away. Plus, the city is full of humans. Making a scene would just be a one way ticket to getting blown apart by N.E.S.T."

"Fledglings who leave the nest too early only end up in the jaws of a beast," Ratchet called.

Mikaela hated it when he pulled the need-too-know poetry shit on her. It only made her feel weaker.

"The less risk we take, the better," Optimus finalized Ratchet's words with a shake of his head. "My decision is final, Mikaela."

Mikaela huffed, but did not respond. She didn't know what was worse, the fact that she would be spending several hours enduring the joy that was having Optimus Prime, the mightiest of the Autobots, as her personal chaperone, or the fact that she was already beginning to dread the meeting with her dad. There were jagged edges to be smoothed in their relationship, she knew, and when he found out – _if_ he found out – that his daughter wasn't human, his reaction wouldn't be helping Mikaela's case.

Better to be on the road, Mikaela supposed, than to be back here basking in the stink of Trina's desperation. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy staying on the California coast, the beach less than a mile away, _Sam _less than a hundred yards away. But the place made her feel like she was in a prison, sometimes, shut out from an outside world where she no longer belonged.

Like that was her fault.

"We'll meet him tomorrow," Mikaela muttered, brushing past Ratchet, ignoring his rolling optics and Prime's pitying look.

How wonderful her day had ended up. An tomorrow would be better. Endless hours of Optimus the ever-so-silent Prime had Mikaela practically bouncing off her pedes.

Not.


	15. She Wasn't Afraid

Optimus barely spoke on the drive.

Mikaela would have given anything to see what was going up in that mind of his. Mikaela would occasionally comm him to ask questions, simple ones, really, but each was met with the same respond. A cool, calculated yes or no or maybe.

Mikaela remembered what Megatron had said, about how 'no' was the only word in her supposedly vast vocabulary. It seemed that the notion could apply to Prime as well, though Mikaela wasn't about to tell him that. Though, it would be an attempt to make a conversation.

Even as cars passed them and Mikaela drove, already having master that art of turning and speeding up, slowing down at a stoplight, applying the brakes, everything, Mikaela couldn't help but wonder if their previous conversation had made some type of impression. She had been, after all, whiny and self-pitying, the opposite of what Prime thought of her to be. He had said it himself – or, at least implied it, using that insinuating tone of his – that she was strong.

But that didn't matter. Mikaela looked ahead, wondering about her father and what type of look would overcome his features when he saw her. She would be different, of course. The holoform hid all her previous imperfections.

Or maybe he would be able to sense that his daughter – or what had formerly been his daughter – was now a machine. A human mind crammed into the body of an alien, a mechanical alien whose violent past surpassed Mikaela's car-jacking, alcohol, abusive past with ease.

He would notice, of course. Mikaela knew that, and a part of her hoped he didn't jump to a conclusion before she had a chance to explain.

Mikaela's thoughts drifted and she increased her speed to catch up with Prime, whose driving seemed to reflect his personality. Eager. Eager to get away, to do something for a change instead of sitting back at home, head buried in the network, trying to figure out what Fisher what kind of crusade tactic he was going to try and pull next.

Don't get too ahead of yourself, Prime, Mikaela thought. The fun has only just begun.

* * *

><p>Synapsis was twice the size of Mission City, and ten times more populated. And it wasn't just people that jammed up the streets and sidewalks. Pollution, cars spitting out toxins left and right. Vendors walking down sidewalks trying to sell this and that. Traffic was hell, the roads jammed by cars and buses filled with humans.<p>

It was like one, big, open air prison. Getting out of the city was difficult enough, but Mikaela found it bizarre that getting in was just a walk through the park. And maneuvering through it sucked.

Oh, the joys of being a vehicle. Bird shit, parking tickets, and now heavy traffic.

**"Where is he meeting you?" **Optimus finally called, and Mikaela was relieved.

**"Here," **Mikaela replied, already pulling to the side near the familiar coffee shop, Optimus close behind.

She recognized the place. When her mother had worked in the city, they would come to the exact same place often. So often that she knew the menu, every coffee, every cappuccino, every latte, every warm blueberry muffin and bagel, by heart.

She still remembered and her mind found itself scanning through the menu, trying to pick out a favorite.

The feeling disappeared as soon at it had come, and Mikaela let out a sigh. Oh, right. Eating and drinking was now out. Old news.

**"He should be here soon," **Mikaela's holoform gripped the steering wheel, and she opened the door, ignoring a horde of crowing boys sitting on the hood of another car on the opposite side of the road.

A warm hand brushed against her shoulder, and Mikaela felt Optimus' own handsome, tan form stiffen. She tilted her head and looked into deep blue eyes, smiling.

"What about that guy you were going to meet?" Mikaela asked quietly, watching as a young couple entered the shop, a little girl holding onto them both, fingers coated in a sticky candy. She glanced back at Optimus. "They don't know that I'm here."

"The exchange will only take a minute," Optimus stepped back, leaning against his alt form casually. Off to the side, beside a sparkling fountain just near the crowing boys, another group of girls were putting on a little show, winking and casually lifting there skirts, putting on a little show.

Optimus jerked his chin and said, "over there."

Mikaela raised her eyebrows.

"Over _there,_" he scowled and pointed past the fountain, presumably away from the giggling girls. "Primus, help me," he muttered.

"Ah."

"Be careful."

"I'm always careful," Mikaela waved her hand. "You go do what you need to do."

"I'll comm you if something is wrong," Optimus said, looking far more worried than he sounded. His lips pulled into a frown and he shoved a lock of black hair from his eyes, looking uncomfortable, and quite frankly, awkward. He wasn't used to the human form as much as Mikaela was. She chuckled internally. The roles had been reversed.

"Hopefully, nothing will go on," Mikaela muttered, watching as Optimus hopped into his alt mode and drove away without as much as a goodbye. Mikaela entered the coffee shop, the scent of coffee beans and chocolate and warm pastries invading her smell like a virus, impossible to block out.

It was almost overwhelming, the scent, and as Mikaela sat down, drumming her fingers against the tables hard glass surface, she made a mental not to ask Ratchet whether it was possible to turn off her sense of smell.

She waited.

Her dad arrived ten minutes later, and he didn't look the same. Sure, the same black hair and strong complexion, one of the features she had taken after, same pants, pants that weren't covered in grease. That was a change.

Mikaela rose, and they hugged, as always. Then they sat down and her dad smiled.

"Hey."

"Hey."

Great first words, Mikaela thought, now let us see where the conversation takes us.

"It's good too you," he said. "You've gotten taller."

Of course she had gotten taller. Her holoform was two inches taller than her original human body.

But Dad didn't need to know that.

It was for his own protection, of course. Protection from the truth meant protection from the risk of being hunted down, ripped apart by a Decepticon limb from limb. Another victim of a war never meant to enter the human world.

"So," Mikaela's father began by twisting his fingers together. "You want anything to drink?"

"No thanks," Mikaela replied. Rule number one: always use your manners.

"Oh, okay," he nodded in understanding. He looked over her features with a raised eyebrow. "When you and your mother used to come here, you would always get…" he trailed off, looking as if he had said too much. His hands shot down to toy with the hemline of his shirt. "I guess nothing has changed," he gave a shaky laugh.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Pretend that you think I'm the same."

Her father's mouth turned down in a nasty frown and he scratched at the stubble on his chin. "Well, growing an inch really isn't that big of a deal, now that you think about it…"

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Is there anything you want to tell me? Anything that you _didn't_ mention on the phone," her father leaned back in his chair. "I know you, Mikaela. You're always up for a latte or too."

Mikaela bit her lip.

"Don't make me tell you."

"Mikaela…"

"You should already know."

"I already know that you've been lying to me for the past three years," louder, this time, her father spoke with conviction, his words harsh and cold.

"It was a lie meant to protect you, not hurt you," Mikaela sat up straighter and looked her father straight in the eye. The truth was inevitable, now, and she knew her father. When he raised his voice, he meant business.

"You were throwing yourself into danger, involved in a _war _of all things. A war that you didn't bother to tell me about? How do you think I felt…?"

"I know how you feel."

"No, you don't."

He was right. She didn't.

Mikaela's head swam as the sickly sweet smell of coffee invaded her sense of smell. She shook her head. Maybe it was her imagination.

"Who told you? I know you didn't _just _come to the conclusion yourself, Dad."

Her father leaned back and smoothed out his shirt. "Someone named Optimus Prime."

Mikaela sucked in a nonexistent breath.

"How long ago?"

"You know how long ago."

Right. The accident. It had almost flown from her mind, so long ago, it seemed, even though she had been trapped in her cursed Decepticon body for almost six months. Six months that her Dad had to recuperate and pull himself together and figure out what in the hell was happening to his perfect, drug filled world and his beautiful, perfect delinquent daughter.

Six months to decide whether or not to call her and see if she was all right. But then again, he had more important things to do.

"The accident was pretty bad, huh?"

"They told you all about that?" Mikaela was practically ready to leap off her toes, wrangle the truth from her father. Did he just know about the accident? Had the ever-so-adroit Optimus Prime manage to state his words carefully and precisely so to delude her father into thinking that the accident was just an untimely circumstance? That her brain hadn't been cut out, frozen, sliced, scanned, and then downloaded into another mechanical body?

A body that her father would hate, of course. Mikaela wasn't shying away from that fact. She didn't even know if he knew, wanted to know if he knew. The fact that he was taking his time, leaning back in his chair, trying to contemplate over what he would say next wasn't helping her case at all.

"They would fix you, they told me."

"Uh-huh," Mikaela said, trying not to widen her eyes.

"W…what did they do to you, Mikaela? What did those aliens do to you?"

"They aren't aliens, Dad, they're my friends."

"You have other normal friends. You have me. I'm not a machine."

_I_ am, she wanted to say, but for some reason her mouth couldn't find the words. Her nails gripped at the white tablecloth.

"Whatever they did to you…I got help. People who want to help you and see that you're…."

He got help. Mikaela couldn't imagine what kind of _help _he had gotten.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm sorry I had to do this, sweetie. I'm really sorry…." Her fathers look was pleading. He was begging her to understand without using any words.

Mikaela was up, knocking her chair back.

**"Mikaela?" **Optimus' voice boomed in her head, and Mikaela instinctively swatted at her ear.

A cry. The screeching of tires. Screams of terrified humans.

"What did you do?" Mikaela rounded on her father, teeth bared.

"What did _they _do?"

"They…." Mikaela looked through the glass windows, saw her original form outside, parked on the curb.

Ditch or stay, ditch or stay. The familiar tune played through her head.

Staying hadn't helped her last time.

She threw herself away from her father, just as he reached out to grab her.

"Mikaela!"

She had literally disappeared before he could say another word. Systems came back online, more acute and alert than ever before, her systems on overdrive.

She drove.

**"Mikaela? Mikaela, can you hear me?"**

**"Loud and clear, boss."**

**"What ha-"**

A grunt, a curse, and then the link went dead.

"Shit…" Mikaela cursed and sped up, careening to the side, knocking over a trash can. People flew out of the way, horns blared, and, as fast as she was and as slow as her pursuers were, part of her knew that she would be out of the city in no time.

Just drive, she willed herself. Drive fast and don't stop.

Just keep driving and –

The pain came out of nowhere. An electric jolt, followed by a burst of agony so great that it scrambled her systems.

She slammed on the brakes. Just outside the city limits, she was, so close to freedom…

She just sat there stunned, confused, the noise of blaring horns so close to her audio receptors that it should have caused him to ring, but they were already ringing from the fresh waves of pain flowing down her frame.

She was not afraid, she told herself. Told her scrambled processors as they tried to apprehend what was going on around her, which way was up and which way was down and why there was a man, a familiar man, walking towards her with something in his hand.

A gun. The man had a gun. But it wasn't normal gun, it was far too large. She had seen guns up close. And this was a gun, but at the same time it wasn't.

She wasn't afraid.

"Thank you, creature," he said, "for making this interesting."

Five minutes later, she found herself immobile, frozen. Again, being hooked up to the back of a truck. But this time, it wasn't Optimus.

They took her away.


	16. Fear is Universal

A quick recap of what has happened so far, Mikaela thought.

Captured. Towed away. Forced to transform in a tiny, cramped room with gray walls and not a single accessory. Like she was checking into camp dull, minus fun camp activities.

And now, leaning in the room against the wall, legs pulled up against her as she hugged her knees and stared at the door, willing for it to open so she could make a mad dash out. Optics trained, unmoving, unblinking.

She could sense the cameras. They were watching her – whoever 'they' was – and she wasn't about to give them the satisfaction of watching her in action. She would give them a show. A show in which the main event was a Cybertronian femme sitting in the corner and brooding silently to herself.

She let her helm rest against the wall, and for the fifth time, she thought about her father.

Traitor. The words were like poison on her tongue, the pain of saying them almost unbearable.

She couldn't blame him for overreacting, though. Instinct before rationality, Ratchet had once said. It was one of the many things that separated Cybertronians from humans. Cybertronians thought, humans acted out of pure animalistic instinct.

Whatever. Ratchet was pretty good at spewing crap to no one, and even better at spewing crap to himself. It was who he was, and Mikaela didn't feel like trying to fix him.

Mikaela sighed and leaned back, the ceiling suddenly becoming quite interesting, and she found herself shutting her optics and wondering if Optimus was out there, looking for her. He hadn't called, hadn't let her know if he was okay and that got Mikaela wondering whether or not he was -

Voices. Coming from outside. One raised in a shrill cry, the other soft and understanding.

The traitor lives, Mikaela thought, and she found herself standing up, bouncing up and down on her pedes, ready to spring.

The door opened, and five men poured inside. Three guards, each with guns raised, presumably the same guns that had shocked her in the first place.

All the guards had the same look on their faces: _We don't want to hurt you, but we will if we have to._

Her father entered next. And beside him, the Honored Caine Fisher himself.

Mikaela felt her confidence slide away and her shoulders sag as the two men, both with equally enraged expressions plastered across their faces, looked up at her.

Her father's mouth opened in alarm. Fisher's gaze was full of pity, and he shook his head sadly.

"You call this help?" Mikaela sneered. "Three men – three _armed _men – and a genocidal maniac? That's your so-called _help_?"

"Mikaela, I know that I forgot to explain, and that's my fault, but - "

"Oh, yes, you forgot to mention that you put your faith in the _Brotherhood of Man_? You simply _forgot _that one specific detail?"

"Honey, I'm sorry," her father pleaded. "I just wanted….I just wanted you back to normal."

"You don't want me like this?"

He straightened up and stared at her, trying to mimic Mikaela's own expression. Blank, drained of all emotion. But it only ended up making him look pathetic. Deep down – but not so deep that Mikaela couldn't see it – he was disgusted at the sight of her. Disgusted at the sight of his own daughter.

His daughter, the machine.

"I don't want you like one of_ them_," her father's brow creased and he stepped closer, tentatively, as if Mikaela was going to step on him at any given moment. His hands were shaking and his voice was shaking and he just couldn't seem to come up with the right uplifting words. Finally, he sighed and said, "I'm sorry."

"'I'm sorry' won't cut it," Mikaela turned to Fisher. "And what, pray tell, did you promise my father? Support? A vow to take his daughters best interest to heart and shower her with constant compassion, love, and tender care?"

Fisher was silent.

Mikaela turned to her father, just as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Enough, Mikaela."

"You don't tell me what to do anymore," Mikaela stepped back so she bumped into the wall. Trapped, like a mouse, she was, with three guards all training their weapons on her, ready to deliver a mind-shattering jolt to her systems. Literally.

"I'm your father."

"Whatever."

"I just wanted to help. They said that they could fix you, that they could make you normal again…." Her father was shooting a suspicious glance in Fisher's direction. "Fisher, you know that I respect you and your organization -"

"Hate group," Mikaela snapped.

"- But we made a deal. You and me, man. I _told _you where Mikaela and I were going to meet up yesterday. I set this _whole_ thing up for you perfectly!"

Mikaela barked a laugh, and her father winced at the sound. "And you actually bought Caine's shit?"

"Most of it," Fisher smirked and jerked hit thumb towards the guards. "Take him away. It's done."

Mikaela didn't want to watch. Didn't want to hear her father as he gasped and struggled against the iron grip of one of Fisher's lackeys, and since her hearing was a thousand times better than that of a human, she had to endure the sound and hear it with far more clarity than desired.

"We made a deal!" Her father shouted as he struggled, arms twisted painfully behind him.

"_You _made a deal, Mr. Banes. I, for one, did not," Fisher waved his hands. "Thank you, though. You're contribution to the Brotherhood is greatly appreciated."

Her father was dragged out into the hallway, kicking and struggling, swearing and begging for Mikaela's forgiveness.

And then there were three.

"What now?" Mikaela asked.

"Now," Fisher said, "we wait."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, the same guard was back. And he brought news.<p>

"It's gone. We lost track of it after it left the city limits."

Mikaela didn't need to ask to know that the "It" was Optimus. She breathed an internal sigh of relief and waited for Fisher's reaction.

"Did you pursue it?"

"No, sir."

"Good."

Mikaela's optics flickered towards Fisher, and the handsome man, straightened out his white suit and glanced at Mikaela.

"What do you want from me," she finally said. "Money? Power? What?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Um, it kind of is. I mean, think about it. It's like a movie. You play the egotistical maniac who spews the purpose for his scheme to the damsel in distress, who, in this case, is the Cybertronian chained to a wall."

"Show some respect, creature."

"So I'm a creature to you?"

"You're something," Fisher's lips curled down in a nasty sneer. "You're not one of them, you aren't human. I know who you are, _Mikaela. _The first of what is soon to be a long line of mechanical slaves, human minds torn from their moorings and shoved into a mechanical body, duped into thinking that they are still _themselves._"

"I'm still myself."

A lie.

"You are not. Mikaela Banes is dead."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Denial will get you nowhere."

"And neither will hatred towards the Autobots," Mikaela's fist were clenching, and visions of this pompous little human, a smear beneath her pedes, were quickly overpowering her train of thought. "If you want someone to hate, hate Megatron and the Decepticons."

"You are _all_ abominations. And you have a choice. Leave this planet, or lose whatever rights the government has considered giving you."

"You keep telling yourself that, man," Mikaela huffed and sat back down on the ground.

And that was the end of that. Fisher left the room, along with the guards, and the door was slammed back shut.

She still didn't know what they wanted from her.

Silence.

Mikaela found herself wondering if she would ever see the light of day again.

**"Mikaela?"**

Mikaela swatted at her ear and nearly leaped to her toes, but forced herself back down. She was being watched.

**"Mikaela? What's going on? Are you hurt?"**

**"One question at a time, boss. No, I'm not hurt," **Mikaela sighed. Physically, no, internally, yes. But she still responded flatly. **"The Brotherhood has me."**

**"I heard."**

**"Fisher sent you a message? Why? What does he want?" **Mikaela found herself pressing her body against the corner, trying to put as much space in between her and the camera's as possible. They had no idea what she was doing. She wasn't speaking, just sending signals from her processors, the signals intercepted, digitized, and sent out to anyone linked into the same frequency.

**"He's not after you."**

**"So what does he want?"**

He was silent for a moment, and Mikaela waited. She wanted him to speak, to hear his voice, something to hold onto.

**"He wants me."**

**"He had you," **Mikaela pointed out. **"But you got away. They chased me, but they didn't chase you, apparently. Why?"**

**"You know why, Mikaela."**

Right. Because taking _her_ would be easier. Fisher knew that Prime would fight back, and that Mikaela, a fledgling Cybertronian new to her own programming,_ couldn't_.

It seemed she hadn't given Fisher enough credit.

**"He wants to negotiate a trade," **Optimus' tone was grim.

Mikaela's fist clenched.

**"What about N.E.S.T?"**

**"We have no idea where you _are_, Mikaela. And even if we _did_ know, we couldn't just simply fight our way through. Not without casualties."**

**"But it's against the law to kidnap!" **Mikaela exclaimed. **"Just….just have Fisher arrested!"**

**"There are no laws protecting Cybertronians," **Optimus went silent for a moment before saying, **"and the Brotherhood is bent on keeping it that way."**

They weren't property. They weren't vehicles. They were simply_ nothing_.

Nothing.

Mikaela swore and slammed her fist against the wall.

**"Do you have a plan?"**

**"I - ,"**

The door opened.

**"Shit. I have company," **Mikaela watched as Fisher stormed in again. **"I have to go."**

"For the third time, let me go."

Fisher was ignoring her. He gestured towards the guards, and they began to circle Mikaela, guns raised.

"What do you want?" Sound tough, act tough. It was what Mikaela lived by.

She wasn't afraid, but at the same time she couldn't help but sent out a silent plea. She wanted Optimus storming in here, ready to play hero. The handsome prince who saved the princess from a horrifying fate.

But this wasn't a fairytale. It was a nightmare.

She changed her mind. She was afraid. But Fisher couldn't see that, would never see that because Mikaela wasn't shaking or crying. She was stoic, a statue. And Mikaela knew she was afraid, but didn't have the disadvantage humans had of feeling her stomach knot and her hands sweat or her eyes feel wet when she thought about what she used to have.

But that didn't mean she didn't _feel. _

"Who did you call?"

"I didn't call anyone," Mikaela lied.

The guards stepped closer.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

"Then how come there's an intruder walking around the compound, pretending to be someone they are not? Our energon detectors do not _lie_, Mikaela."

Key word: _Pretending_.

Mikaela beamed.

Then, her smile faded when she realized that there were no Autobots pretenders.

The door exploded, someone screamed, maybe it was Mikaela, maybe it was Fisher. Two guards dropped dead before they could fire a single shot, and above Mikaela, the roof was torn apart.

Gunfire. Screams. Metal. Mikaela threw herself against the wall and covered her head with her hands.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fisher and the remaining guard run through the shattered doorway, covering their head with their hands.

Mikaela squeezed her eyes shut, the staccato of gunfire growing louder and louder, and in the background, the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. _Human_ bodies.

"Fragging animals!" someone yelled.

Mikaela felt talons grip under her arms, and instinctively she lashed out, earning an angry grunt.

"Hold still, femme!"

Mikaela continued to thrash, kicking and screaming and doing everything she could to get away from those awful fingers that slid up under her armor, tickling sensitive wires and making her feel utterly uncomfortable.

She had yet to open her eyes. She didn't want to.

"Be grateful that we came to your aid, femme," Starscream whispered, his lip plates brushing up against her audio receptors.

She was pressed even harder against Starscream, and she had to resist the urge to kick him again.

For the second time in two days, she was taken away by her most hated enemy.


	17. Irrelevant

Another room, but this time ten times creepier. Water dripping from a busted pipe in the ceiling, the walls made of stone –understandable, since they were in a _cave _– a table big enough for Mikaela to sit, the doors practically blending in with the brown complexion of the walls. Even the table was uncomfortable, the edges of the seat feeling all prickly and wrong.

Or maybe it was the fact that Megatron was sitting right across from her. The only noise in the room were his demented talons as they tapped away at the surface of the table, the sound rhythmic and somehow making Mikaela even more nervous than she already was.

"I should have known," Megatron sighed and ceased his tapping, head tilting to the side to stare at Mikaela curiously. And it wasn't the good kind of curious. "My old partner, somehow brought back from the Pit. It was too good to be true."

"Yeah," Mikaela mumbled, trying her best not to meet his steely gaze.

"And you…" Megatron's talons screeched across the table suddenly, his optics flaring and that as when Mikaela assumed she was going to die. She could practically feel the rage flowing off his frame, each wave strong and prominent.

I am not afraid, she told herself. If Sam can face this guy, then so can I.

"I'm not her."

"Body stealer. Thief," Megatron hissed. "I should offline you right now."

"Be my guest," Mikaela waved her hand.

Yeah, death would be a release. A release from this cursed body. Mikaela closed her optics and waited, waited for him to leap across the table and strangle her or maybe, if she was lucky, shoot her head off right then and there and she wouldn't have to face another agonizing death.

But Megatron did not move and Mikaela took the risk, cracking open one optics and seeing him across from her, shoulders slouched, his usual unbalanced demeanor replaced with one filled with sorrow and disbelief.

"You won't, and I know why," Mikaela cracked a smile, leaning forward and resting her armor elbows on the table, propping her head up in his hands.

She was in control. She realized it, even if Megatron didn't. Her body gave her the advantage.

It sickened her and pleased her all at the same time.

"Before I decide your initial fate…." Megatron pinched the bridge of his nose, " just enlighten me as to how this happened. And make it quick, femme. I don't have time for any senseless squabbling."

"Processor transplant," Mikaela shrugged, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Or something like that."

"Impossible…" he breathed.

"Yeah, well, the impossible just became possible."

Megatron's talons screeched across the table again as he stood up, Mikaela's form stiffening as he walked around the room, coming to stand behind her and shoving his torn apart, metal face right next to hers.

"It's a _miracle_ you even remember your original designation," he said causally. "Tell me, femme, can you still feel her?"

"What?"

"Don't play dumb."

Mikaela bit her lip plates and tried not to look into Megatron's eyes. The homicidal tyrant was right, of course, she could still feel Roadrunner's conscious. See each memory as if they were her own, random flashes of another person's life, _her _life, originally, going by each and every day. She had more information on the Autobots and Decepticon's than ever before because she had the memories of a billion year old warrior who had, more than once, fought with both Optimus Prime and Megatron.

Knowledge was power, her father had once told her, and he was _right_.

"What do you want from me?" Mikaela whispered, feeling a cold talon brush up against her back. Like an icy finger down her spine.

"_You. _I want _you_."

"Well….you can't have me."

"And what's to stop me from claiming you as my own? Surely Roadrunner's memories prove that I _get_ what I _want_."

"Roadrunner's memories also prove that you're a sick, demented freak!" Mikaela was up, knocking the chair aside and backing up against the wall. Her voice began to rise, steadily at first, and then turning into a shrill cry. "Countless lives have been lost because of your twisted arrogance, you and your posse have destroyed your own planet, and here you are, hitting on me like some desperate high school dropout who's never seen a girl in his life!"

Megatron didn't even flinch. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, tapping on his forearm, continuing his previous steady rhythm. It made Mikaela want to scream.

"You're just like her."

"I _am_ her. In _body_. Not mind. So whatever sick scheme that's brewing, you can take it and shove it up your ass," Mikaela still had her hands raised, was still pressing herself against the wall, trying to put some space in between her and the monster in front of her. "I have a boyfriend, you know. And I'm not about to toss him aside for _you_."

Pretty brave words spoken by a femme who barely knew who she was, _what_ she was and what she wanted. The words spoken were tranquil, but in her head she was screaming and screaming and screaming out of rage and hate and anger.

Megatron shook his head, and Mikaela was astounded at how calmly he composed himself. But she could see the way his talons scraped across his forearm as he resisted the urge to clench his fist, and she knew his patience was dwindling. He would snap.

"Your past, you're _human _past, is irrelevant."

At least he and Ratchet agreed on something. Except for Mikaela knew that Megatron had taken the meaning to a whole other level, and a part of her dreaded what she was about to hear.

"Not all of it."

"Yes," Megatron's voice was laced with steel, and Mikaela cringed back. "Your human past should mean nothing to you. Not now, not after what you have become."

"What are you on?" Mikaela asked, cocking one hip to the side.

"I should be asking you the same thing," Megatron began to walk, slowly, and Mikaela's optics followed his every move, his heavy footsteps reverberating off the walls. He was watching her, too, like a cat watching a mouse.

Except for Mikaela didn't know who was the cat and who was the mouse. Who would make the next move and who would be the shocked victim ready to go under the knife.

"Have you ever stopped to think, ever stop worrying about your pathetic little organic life teeming with glitches and malfunctions and thought about what you are and what you can do?"

"I know who I am."

A lie.

"I can see the insecurity in your optics," Megatron was in front of her now, towering over her but still reaching out and running a talon along her jawline, the feel like a feather brushing against her armor.

Mikaela stood, still as a statue, petrified, the feeling of fear itself utterly _alien. _Even then her processors were screaming the same question she had felt when she had been chained to that wall only a day ago.

If she was afraid, then why wasn't she _afraid?_

"Do you think that your little organic friends see you for _you_? Do you think they can fully comprehend the extent of your abilities?"

"Yes."

A lie? Mikaela didn't know.

"I know what the humans are like," he continued, and this time Mikaela saw the flicker of insanity behind his optics. "They feed off the fear of other, turn the most simple things into weapons, and, above all else, fear what they do not understand."

"Not everyone is like that," Mikaela countered. In her head, she was already ticking off a few. Trina. Sam. Lennox. Epps.

"They hate_ you_, just as they hate us."

"They hate _you_ because_ you're_ the ones trying to destroy their planet."

"This is a war, and in war, there _will_ be casualties. Only the _strong_ survive, and quite frankly, the humans don't qualify."

Mikaela couldn't believe that he hadn't exploded by this point. Hadn't jumped up and slapped her and strangled her or raised his voice. He was being infuriatingly calm about the whole thing, taking Mikaela's insults and countering them his own.

So obvious that she had the advantage. He wouldn't hurt her, but he had the power to do _so_ much more.

Why wasn't he taking it? Mikaela had been presented to him as a gift, a gift he was refusing to open. He had already toyed with her, opened her up and dove into the very corners of her subconscious and seen everything. Left her lying exposed.

"The human race will survive," Mikaela whispered.

"You keep telling yourself that, femme. One day you'll realize that they are not a species worth saving."

"And that will be the day I die."

"Then you'll be living in fear for a while, femme," he replied coolly. "the Brotherhood of Man….is that the feeble little organization that wants to destroy our kind?"

"Not destroy, exile. Either that or strip us of our rights," Mikaela made a face. "Well, the Autobot's rights, since you and you're posse don't exactly follow the rules."

Megatron barked a laugh, ignoring her accusation. "You're on their list, femme. And I don't expect you to be able to hold your own against them, considering how _weak_ you are."

"And you think that you would?"

"I _know_ I would. See, I am not afraid of crushing the little maggots under my pedes, like _some_."

Mikaela snorted. "Are you saying that you'd destroy the Brotherhood for _me_? Give them one more reason to hate us?"

"Not just for you, but for all of us. Autobots and Decepticon's alike. It would knock some sense into those little fleshy brains of theirs."

"No. Destroy the Brotherhood however you like, topple the organization diplomatically or politically, but please…don't kill anyone."

"Ha! And you think the world would notice the absence of just a _few _of humans?"

"Leave me out of it, Megatron," Mikaela inched towards the door, the tyrant already coming closer and closer. "I don't want this. I don't want _you_."

"You still want Optimus?"

"I don't know…." Mikaela shook her head feverishly, "I don't know what I want."

Megatron stopped and stared, one talon twitching.

"Admit it. You want_ him_," his face twisted into an ugly snarl. "You've always wanted him."

"Not me. _Her_," and then, trying to conjure up some image of her past, something that would ease the horrors of this nightmare, she whimpered. Sam's face came to mind, and she said softly, "I already have someone."

His hand shot out and curled around her shoulder, crushing the armor, talons digging into her internal wiring.

Sparks flew.

And then, the pain, shocking at first, then an explosion of sensations shooting from the tips of her metal fingers to her befuddled processors.

So shockingly _real._

Mikaela couldn't help the scream that bubbled in the back of her throat, and she found herself clawing at Megatron's arm, gripping his wrist and pulling, but to no avail because he was to strong and she was just to weak.

"Please…"

"It hurts, doesn't it?"

He squeezed again, and this time Mikaela's knees wobbled so they banged together, the sound blending with her mewls of pain.

"Yes!"

"Good."

He released her, and she fell to her knees, clutching her shoulder. Energon seeped from the wound.

The door behind her opened, and in walked Starscream. Crept was more like it, Mikaela decided as she clenched her dental plates together, trying not to scream even though her whole entire arm had been engulfed in a vicious throb.

"Take her," Megatron watched as Starscream reached under Mikaela's arms and hoisted her up, slinging her over his shoulder so her face plowed right into his ass.

She did not struggle.

"It was nice seeing you again, femme."

"My name isn't 'femme'," Mikaela rasped. "It's _Mikaela_. Mikaela Banes."

"I always found human names _so_ uninteresting." Megatron clicked his tongue and shook his head, and as the door slid shut, Mikaela saw him turn his back to her and say, "I guess that's another thing that will have to go."


	18. Revolution

Starscream threw her in a cell and left her there with a hurt shoulder and an even more hurt pride.

Three days. Three days he didn't come back, and Mikaela was drifting farther and father into a state of depression, psychological attempts at consolation having proved fruitless.

She was trapped. She felt as if the walls were closing in on, getting closer and closer until she could no longer see, could no longer tell up from down or down from up. A reminder of all her original fears, self-loathing and pity being the foremost of the group.

She felt like such a fool right now, sitting in the damp, smelly cell, not nearly as glamorous as the room Fisher had been _kind _enough to throw her in after she had been captured. This one was small and cramped with barely enough room to stand and a busted pipe in the ceiling – the second one she had seen so far – with water dripping out its spout, splashing onto her armor and emitting a putrid smell.

But above everything else, she was afraid.

Starscream came a few minutes later, a cube of energon in hand, opening the cell and standing there to gawk like a little child.

"Such a shame. You were always Megatron's favorite, and now look what has become of you."

"I thought you were his favorite, you know, despite the fact that he used to bust on you all the time?"

Starscream flinched and hurled the cube of energon at Mikaela. She caught it with nimble fingers, stared at it, and then flung it to the side so it clattered into a corner.

"Drink."

"No."

"Make this difficult, and I'll call Megatron in here to _motivate _you," Starscream's talons screeched against the bars of the cell as he stepped closer. "And believe me; I'll _enjoy_ watching him force that energon down your sorry little throat."

Mikaela too the cube, holding it in her fingers and staring at the blue liquid inside, wondering how hard she could throw the cube. Watch it hit Starscream's face, she thought. She would laugh at that, for sure.

"I will later."

Starscream didn't comment on that. He just leaned against the wall and stared with big, red glowing eyes that reminded her of too-bright Christmas lights.

"What?" Mikaela snapped.

"It doesn't concern you."

"You're staring."

Starscream made a "who, me?" gesture and chuckled, his chest rising and falling with every beat. Then, with a wave of one long finger, said, "I'm just comparing the similarities."

"Between me and Roadrunner? It's taking you _that_ long?"

"Not in body," Starscream said impatiently. Tapping his helm, he said, "no, you idiot, in _here_."

"We don't think alike. We _aren't _alike. You don't know anything."

"Personality wise, there are some parallels. I'm not as ignorant as Megatron, femme. I have the apparatuses to make throughout observations. I don't just sit back on my aft all day and make false accusations," Starscream's sneer was vicious. "Unlike _some_. No matter, I can see it in your optics. See _her _in your optics."

"And that pisses you off, doesn't it?" Mikaela said with a morbid laugh. Already, old memories were beginning to gather in her processors, shady at first, but then clear as day.

Rage. Hate. Anger. All Roadrunners, and all hers.

Starscream's loathing almost overpowered her senses. Her optics blinked, and then he came into full view again, his pompous and arrogance smirk on full display.

Starscream didn't respond, and Mikaela assumed that he knew she knew the answer.

"Oh…" her lip plates curled upward in a nasty smile. "_Jealous_."

Starscream's talons screeched against the bars, and then Mikaela found herself being lifted up, talons digging into her wounded shoulder, and being dragged down the hallway.

Her shoulder throbbed painfully, and she clenched her dental plates. Starscream either didn't know or pretended not to care.

A few minutes later, they were outside, emerging from the came and pushing their way through the trees, out into a clearing. Starscream threw her down onto the dew covered grass, and she rolled over, wincing and staring up at him.

His look said, _If you try to escape, you die._

Mikaela decided not to try. She needed to be alive for Optimus to save her, wherever he was.

"I thought that you might need some fresh air."

"I don't need air," Mikaela said through clenched dental plates. "You of all people should know that, you jackass."

Starscream waggled a finger. "Now, now, Mikaela, name calling will only make you a target. Learn to control your attitude, and just _maybe_ you'll earn yourself a title as second-in-command."

"Is that how you did it? Held your tongue while Megatron beat you down?"

"I meant _my _second-in-command."

"Oh," Mikaela felt her optics narrow. "So you're still trying to carry out the same shit as before? Mutiny?"

"A new beginning for the Decepticon campaign is more like it," Starscream's optics lit up excitedly as he pondered over the topic in his head, and Mikaela found her finger digging into the slippery grass.

"I'm _not_ in."

"You might not have a choice."

Mikaela pursed her lip plates and said, quickly, "Not to burst your bubble, but I don't think Megatron is going to be disappearing anytime soon."

"Oh, but he _will_," Starscream was practically giddy with happiness, talons clenched threateningly together, wings bristling with every word. "Of course, _you _wouldn't understand the inconveniences of my contemporary situation, would you?"

"Try me."

"I will," in one flourished motion, Starscream fell back on his aft, legs flailing upward, talons shifting back to dig into the grass. His helm tilted to the side and his nasty smirk returned, his optics full of a sickening curiosity that had Mikaela curling her arms around her torso in an attempt to hide whatever she could.

He was in the same position as Megatron now. He was the bigger figure, the dominant one in this situation, yet he was sitting in front of her, ready for some type of chat? Mikaela just didn't get it.

"Megatron is such a pompous fool, believing that he is the one true god - the rightful ruler. His arrogance will lead to his downfall," Starscream leaned forward, and in a hushed tone said, "but believe me when I say he has _no idea who he's dealing with_."

"He's dealing with the mayor of Jackassville, that's for sure," Mikaela muttered.

Starscream slapped her, the back of his talons catching the side of her cheek, the pain stunning at first, as rich as chocolate and then transforming into a dull sting.

Mikaela, glaring dagger at the Seeker in front of her, reached up to massage her cheek, and Starscream, still sitting, still staring, continued to speak as if nothing had happened.

"I'm the genius in this sad bunch of catastrophes."

"You haven't done anything that will win you any awards," Mikaela said. Her face still hurt, and speaking felt as if she were talking with a wad of cotton in her mouth.

"Oh, but I disagree, and I'm sure my contradiction will surprise you, none the less."

Again, Starscream leaned forward, and that was when Mikaela got a good look into his optics, saw the insanity and the rejection and the pain and torment, memories flooding back to her of Starscream, smaller than now but with an ego just as big, being pummeled again and again by the creature her body had once lusted for.

She felt sick. Sick down to her spark.

"It was a _dreadful _sight to watch," Starscream began, tone laced with so much sarcasm that Mikaela wanted to reach out and slap him herself. "The mighty Megatron, brought to his knees at the news his _beloved _Roadrunner has been offlined."

"I'm sure he was upset," Mikaela murmured.

"Oh, he was. When your energy signal came back online, he was so overjoyed that, with much vigor, he sent his faithful second in command to confirm his suspicions."

"Lucky you," she replied bitterly, waiting for a slap that never came. It then occurred to her that Starscream – being the egotistical maniac he was – could go on and on and on talking about how much he hated Megatron, but never in a million years would have the courage to actually shove the knife in his back.

It showed just how much prudence Megatron picked his second-in-commands. But then again, Mikaela thought as she glanced at the ground, would Megatron really want a second who had enough guts to shoot him right in the face?

You needed them strong, but you also needed them weak. Just a_ little_…..

"I could never find you. Not _then_, of course."

"And you must have gotten beating for that, huh?" Mikaela felt one optic ridge rise and she deprived much pleasure from seeing Starscream squirm.

"Yes."

"And then he found me."

"_No_," Starscream's words were full of venom, and his talons dug into the ground. He lifted them up, suddenly, pulling a chunk of grass and dirt up with him. "_I _found you. I led Megatron straight to you, and what do I get in return?"

Mikaela did not answer.

"Good femme," Starscream sneered. "At least you know when _not _to speak, unlike your frame's previous owner."

"I'm sorry if your life sucks, but mine isn't any better."

Starscream didn't say a word, but stood up, joints creaking, sauntering over to her.

"Hah. At least _you _know when not to speak," Mikaela winked. "C'mon. You don't want to hear it? The heartbreaking start to the triumphant finish?"

No reply.

"C'mon, if you're making this a game, then I'm in. But remember, I play to _win_."

"Your human life means nothing to me, femme. And nothing will convince me otherwise," he hoisted her up, fingers digging into her underarms, and began to carry her back to the base, ignoring the fact that Mikaela wasn't quite a fledgling and could walk by herself. Oh, well, the joys of being a Decepticon prisoner.

Mikaela's sneer was nauseating. "I didn't think it would."


	19. Negotiation

"What do you see?"

Mikaela's optics were glued to the vidscreen, her mouth opened in a silent gasp, hands creeping up to cover her mouth. And all the while, Megatron, behind her, a hand on her shoulder, squeezing hard.

She had tried to forget about her father, tried to shut out his cries, his pleas for mercy as he was dragged away by some of Fisher's lackeys. She had almost succeeded in blocking him out completely and telling herself, convincing herself that a true father wouldn't turn his daughter over to a maniac.

How wrong she was. How wrong she was to believe that he was gone, taken away, her true father replaced by one just as identical in appearance, but bitter in heart.

No. None of that. Her accusations were faulty, wrong, and there he was, on the screen, sitting in a cell with his head in his hands and looking utterly _miserable_.

"Why is he in jail?" Mikaela felt stupid for asking.

"Why do you think?"

Of_ course_. The answer was coherent. Her father, having put his trust in the Brotherhood in a failed attempt to help his daughter, had ultimately been caught and accused of being a backstabbing liar.

Which, of course, was true. But the circumstances were different this time, and Mikaela didn't think her father had phoned Megatron and given him a heads up on her location.

But Fisher sure had.

"Oh…Dad," Mikaela's mouth turned down in a frown.

Megatron flicked the vidscreen off and turned to stare at Mikaela, head cocked to the side.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you show me that?" Mikaela replied irritably, tapping her foot impatiently. She was already angry enough, and leave it to Megatron to spoil the rest of her day. "I already have enough on my mind…"

"_Negotiation_," Megatron reached out and stroked a claw down Mikaela's cheek. "A smart femme like you is _sure_ to understand."

"What do you want from me? Money? I have plenty, but not on me."

"First," Megatron began ticking things off in his long talons, "I want you to cease you whining about your human years."

"I don't do that."

"Oh, believe me, you _do_."

"You don't know anything about me, so why judge?"

"I know plenty about you. I know, for a fact, that the poor human imprisoned by the Brotherhood is your father."

Mikaela didn't say anything.

"And I know for a fact that you would do anything, even risk your own spark, to save him," Megatron's sneer was vicious.

"_Save_ him?" Mikaela spread her arms out wide and stepped back, intending to scoff but only managing a small, unconvincing laugh. "You want to bring my family into this, now? Bargain with my father's life?"

"I can assure you his freedom, as long as you do one simple thing for me."

"I don't want to hear it," Mikaela clapped her hands over her ears and began to walk, heavy footsteps echoing around the room.

Megatron's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, digging into sensitive wires and pulling her forward.

"Really, you have no choice," he shrugged conversationally.

Right. Because she never had a choice. It wasn't her choice to be captured, it wasn't her choice to be injured, it wasn't her choice to be thrown into another body.

It wasn't her choice to rob the memories of another.

Mikaela felt her spark hum darkly and her fist clench as Megatron, being who he was, did not let go of her wrist but instead pulled her closer.

"As long as it gets me out of this hellhole," she murmured, "I'm in."

"Good," Megatron released her.

"What are the terms?"

"Bring me the download tech, and I can assure you your father will be returned home safely."

Mikaela blinked, mouth opening in alarm.

"What?"

Megatron, sighing in annoyance, replied, "the download tech, femme. Honestly, are your audio receptors malfunctioning?"

They probably were, because Mikaela wasn't exactly sure what she was hearing. Ratchet had mentioned it plenty of times during her daily checkup, but she had never contemplated over the matter. All she knew, all she had been told, was that her brain – or what was left of it – had been frozen and sliced and transported.

End of story. A one time thing bound to never happen again, as Optimus had said. But lo and behold, here was Megatron asking for the directions to the procedure.

It appeared Optimus was wrong. Again.

Mikaela didn't want to contemplate over Optimus any more than she wanted to join Starscream's aimless revolution. But even when she tried to shut the topic out, it came back, inexorable.

And all Mikaela could do was stand there and listen to Megatron as he milled around the room, looking distracted and agitated, all the things that would sure lead to an insufferable beating.

"What do you want it for?"

"It doesn't matter. As long as it's _mine_."

Yeah, because the mighty Megatron had to be the one with the shiniest new toys, the one who had everything while others did not. Starscream had been mistaken. His selfishness would lead to his downfall as well as his arrogance.

Mikaela couldn't hide her disgust as she said, "why? So you can make more of me? Ruin other peoples lives?"

"With a few improvements, the technology could prove useful," Megatron crossed his arms, cold, calculating optics staring Mikaela down, making her feel smaller than ever before. "No matter. The important thing is if you agree with these terms."

Mikaela felt her throat go dry.

"Come now, femme," Megatron tilted his head to the side. "You wouldn't want to let your fathers fate rest in the hands of that dreadful organization, would you?" His tone changed, mocking. "What kind of daughter would you be?"

"I'm not a traitor. I won't betray Sam or Optimus or any of them….I can't."

"And here we go again…." Megatron's sigh was deep, and his previous composter returned, him pacing across the room and towards the vidscreen, back facing her, talons reaching out to brush across the screen. "I really don't like repeating myself, but you, it is unavoidable."

"Oh, no. Another 'past is irrelevant' speech? I've heard enough of those."

Megatron was ignoring her, fingers dancing across the screen to pull up a video. It was a news report, Mikaela observed, and one optic ridge rose as she watched the scene unfold before her.

The news reporter was having to shout through his microphone over the noise of the protestors. Rioters, really, since half of them were holding signs and screaming and the other half were making a show of throwing trash can's through window and smashing anything in sight.

The news reporter was talking and pointing, but his words were barely audible. But his word's weren't what alarmed Mikaela, no, it was what was transpiring behind him.

A group of protesters, or Brotherhood followers or whatever they called themselves, were driving by sluggishly slow, some seated in the back of the pickup truck towing signs and spray paint, each hooting and bellowing, and in that instant, as the camera zoomed in on the shot, Mikaela knew why.

A woman was being dragged behind the car, one end of a rope tied around her ankles, the other end being held by one of the Brotherhood followers. The car wasn't going fast, no, an average human could have ran faster than the vehicle was driving.

On the woman's forehead, the words _Robo-whore _were painted in bright red.

Mikaela wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She was forced to stare as Trina was dragged across the asphalt, screaming and crying and struggling, forced to watch until the car faded out of the shot.

The screen went dark.

"They hate _us_. They hate_ you_. I cannot stress that enough," Megatron turned towards her. "Has that display not changed your mind? They will go after their own _kind _to achieve their goals," his smile was sickeningly sweet. "So, my dear femme, do we have a deal?"

Mikaela's optics focused on the ground, and finally, without looking up, she said, "we have a deal. But when you rescue my dad - "

"_If_ I have to rescue your father," Megatron spread his arms wide at Mikaela's startled look. "I know _you _don't trust me, so why should _my_ judgment be any different?"

Basically he was saying that there was no trust in the agreement. Who was to say she wouldn't double-cross him and go back on her word? Who was to say he wouldn't do the same?

"Yeah. Whatever. Just…if you…don't kill anyone when you go to…you know."

"I can't make any promises," he replied. "You have a month. I assume that joke of a medic will have documented the procedure on a data pad. You should know how to transport the information into your processors, since you know _so _much about how you work, and then send it to me. I'll have your father freed soon after."

Mikaela couldn't help but narrow her eyes.

"Not one thing regarding our agreement leaves your lips, do you understand, femme?" Megatron said, lowering his voice. "No one word spoken to that pathetic excuse for a mate of your, either."

"You know Sam?"

"I know him as the annoying pest who shoved the Allspark into my chest, therefore destroying whatever hope my race had of survival," he snorted. "It's not something I like to gripe about."

The dull silence that followed was unnerving.

"Humans…" Megatron murmured. "An even sorrier excuse for a species."

"Are you asking for another war? Human's versus Cybertronians?"

"There already _is_ a war," Megatron winked. The motion would have been cute on anyone but him. "And I think you know what side you're going to choose."

Right. Because in any game, you choose the side that you knew would win.

* * *

><p>Starscream dropped her off in somewhere in Nevada, letting her drive out into the wilderness, out into the desert where he transformed swiftly and landed in front of her, sending up a cloud of dust and dirt.<p>

She backed up and transformed, just as his fingers reached out towards her.

"Don't touch me," she batted his hand away and he pulled back, pretending to be hurt.

"Rebellious? That's just how I like them…"

"Shut up."

Starscream looked as if he wanted to make a comeback, maybe even hit her again, but he slunk back, taking on that same, groveling look he always displayed when Megatron was around.

And, of course, he was faking.

"My _apologies_. I didn't mean to cause you any discomfort, _Roadrunner_."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"Only when I want to," Starscream straightened up and glanced at the sun, seriousness returning swiftly. "Megatron will be waiting. I must get back."

"Then go."

Starscream looked torn between transforming and blasting himself away as quickly as possible, or staying to taunt Mikaela some more. After a long moment, he inched closer to Mikaela, talons reaching up under his armor to pull out a small, black object.

It was a black box etched with markings and symbols. Starscream, looking back as forth as if Megatron would drop out of the sky any moment, grabbed Mikaela's wrist, slamming the object into her palm and then forcing he fist to close around it.

"What is this?"

In a low whisper, the Seeker replied, "you'll see. Put it up under your armor and don't open it until you're alone."

"What…" Mikaela watched as he stumbled away, practically tripping on his own feet, transformed, and flew away.

As Starscream became a speck in the sky, Mikaela stared at the black box, running her fingers among its smooth surface before shrugging and letting it rest under her armor.

She didn't want to open it now. She had had enough surprises for one day. With a sigh, she transformed back down, tires squealing and kicking up dirt.

She drove, and did not look back.


	20. Breakup

She returned, raggedy, armor covered in wet leaves and scratched from having to drive miles in the rain. Miles of constant thunder and lightning, the whole time cursing her enhanced senses because the whole time she had to listen to the noise, the same noise she had heard as a human, but amplified a thousands times louder.

She hated being a Cybertronian. Of course, it came with its pro's and con's, but she would have taken a life in a wheelchair over a life as a mechanical beast.

Maybe she was thinking that way because she was upset over she and Megatron's "deal." Maybe she was upset over Starscream, the wannabe revolutionist, and his creepy assumption that, when everything was over, she would come crying back to him and forever be seated as his right hand femme. Or maybe it was both.

Had to be both.

Or maybe not? She was still feeling angry and skeptical, even when she sent out a short message, broadcasting it across a twenty mile radius in an attempt to pick up the signal of at least _one _Autobot. She couldn't drive forever, she knew, and her tires, believe it or not, were beginning to hurt from driving to long and she was low on energy.

An hour later, as she drove on an empty, open stretch of road, help came in the form of a very pissy Ratchet.

* * *

><p>"It wasn't your fault," Optimus concluded.<p>

No matter how many times he said it, Mikaela knew that it wasn't true. But leave it to Optimus to twist his own words and make it seem like he wasn't accusing her of doing something wrong. Mikaela was a master at spotting the undertones in another person's voice, and underneath everything, Optimus was trying to bury his disappointment.

Disappointed with himself, Mikaela realized as she pulled her legs up against her. They were in a secluded section of the base, behind one of the storage sheds. Alone. Just the two of them.

Fingers brushing over her shoulder, Mikaela leaned into the embrace.

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to get to you in time. They caught me off guard and I was unable to…." Optimus shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Are you alright?"

She looked alright, since Ratchet had spent most of yesterday fixing her up in the med bay. He, as well as Prime, had agreed that the base was safer, now that Megatron was onto them. Onto _her. _Mikaela had wanted to ask questions, but Ratchet had waved her off, adjusting a gear in her shoulder before shooting her a look that clearly stated he knew more than he let on.

Whatever. Let Ratchet keep his secrets, let Mikaela keep hers. Even his "interrogation" hadn't been enough to make her spill.

Like anything would make her spill at this point. The consequences of failing to abide by Megatron's terms would mean dying at his hands. Or worse, having her previous title as his permanent play toy restored.

Mikaela knew that there was no trust in the agreement anyway, and she couldn't help the sickening feeling in the pit of her tanks.

"Mikaela?"

"Yeah?"

Optimus' blue optics softened. "You need to rest."

"You're starting to sound like Ratchet," Mikaela huffed and shrugged his hand off her shoulder.

"Is that so much a bad thing? I'm simply concerned."

"You're always concerned," Mikaela said sourly. "Learn to lie back and go with the flow. I mean, back on Cybertron, did you ever just go out, grab a drink, and hang out with your friends?"

"Back on Cybertron, things were different," he said coolly.

Mikaela didn't know how to respond to that. She just cleared her throat and straightened up, sighing and reaching out to run a finger over his arm. "Look….I know that you're worried about me and whatever, but…"

"….You can take care of yourself?"

"That's one question you always get right," Mikaela said with a small laugh. "And I guess I didn't justify that statement last time, so I guess you have a right to be a pissy at me. I lost control of a situation that I should have seen coming."

"How were you supposed to know that your father would turn you over to the Brotherhood?" Optimus said softly. "He's your family, is he not? And as his daughter, is it not your obligation to trust his judgment?"

"I did that, and I majorly screwed up."

"I take full responsibility for what happened."

There. He had said it. Mikaela had been waiting for him, waiting all along for him to take the blame, to put his selflessness on full display. But the sorrow in his voice had Mikaela wanting to weep.

"No. Don't."

"I know this may seem - "

"_No_," Mikaela felt his chest shift and his fingers shake as she wrapped her arms around his waist. "_Don't_."

They pulled apart quickly, Mikaela feeling flushed and embarrassed, Optimus looking stoic and calm, but below that, Mikaela could see that he was beaming.

Silence. Then, "and Sam…"

"Sam…." Optimus seemed to contemplate over the name for a moment before snapping back into reality, optics widening ever so slightly. "He and Trina were both looking for you."

"I'm going to go…"

"They will be glad to see you."

"Yeah. I hope so."

Mikaela couldn't help the small grimace that played across her features. Optimus may not know it, in fact, no one but Mikaela and Megatron knew it, but she had seen what had happened to Trina. Had seen it more than once, thanks to Megatron, because he had insisted he play it over and over to make sure the idea of despising the humans was clearly embedded in her mind.

And above everything else, she was a traitor. An invisible traitor. Facing Sam would just add to the guilt piling up in her subconscious, and she didn't know how much more she could bear.

She went to go find Sam anyway.

* * *

><p>She found Sam and Trina both talking quietly, sitting just outside the hangar with there backs turned to Mikaela. They didn't even turn when Mikaela approached, her heavy footsteps the heaviest sound in the air.<p>

"Hey, guys."

Sam turned around and made a big show out of looking surprised. Trina tilted her head and stared, eyes twinkling dangerously before she flicked a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and made a sound of annoyance.

What a beautiful welcome party, Mikaela thought.

"Mikaela…" Sam breathed, standing up and throwing himself at her leg, reluctantly giving it a hug, and then a small pat. He looked up at her, lips curling upward in a small smile. He stepped back and scratched the back of his head, ignoring when Trina stood and came to stand behind him, not meeting Mikaela's eye.

"You're okay!" Sam said happily, then he went to hug her leg again. "I thought you were…we all thought you were…"

"Yeah. I thought I was gonna be," she shrugged. "But I guess I made it back in one piece."

Sam blinked, probably trying to hide back his tears, which would have probably worked if he had been crying in the first place. He just stepped back and stared up at Mikaela with his hands on his hips.

"What happened?"

"My father happened," Mikaela said, not bothering to hide her disdain.

Sam gulped.

"Yeah. I know. He contacted the Brotherhood, wanting to help me. But his plan sort of backfired."

"Oh…I'm sorry."

_I'm sorry. _The universal empathizing term wasn't fooling Mikaela. Sam didn't understand. He had just said – quite dismissively – "I'm sorry" because he was obliged too. Because, like Optimus, he wasn't mean by nature.

"Yeah. Me too."

Sam slunk back and that was when Mikaela looked past her boyfriend and saw Trina, standing there with her arms crossed and her eyes studying the ground.

"Trina?"

"What?"

"About what happened…" Mikaela had to resist twisting her fingers together as she tried to come up with the right words. "I…um….I take full responsibility for what happened."

It seemed that some of Optimus was rubbing off of her.

"What do you mean?" Sam said incredulously.

Mikaela sighed, shifting, and then finally kneeling down to look the two humans in the eye. "They rioted because of me. They're exploding…._because of me._ I'm a mistake in the eyes of man, an abomination. The Autobots…they know what they are and all, but _me_?"

Trina looked as if she wanted to make some snide comment, but when her mouth opened, no sound came out.

It would be better that way, probably. Mikaela had already suffered the wrath and wrench of Ratchet, and she really didn't want to face one of Trina's furious accusations, even though all the things she would have said would have been accurate enough.

Finally, when Trina did regain her ability to speak, the words that came out weren't the least bit friendly.

"Maybe they were right."

She walked away, leaving Sam and Mikaela alone.

"Look," Sam said, watching Trina storm away furiously, her dark hair billowing behind her. "She's been a crabby and…."

Right, because Sam's definition of crabby was listening to someone call his girlfriend, his now _Cybertronian _girlfriend, an abomination.

"Crabby isn't the right word. Bitchy if more like it," Mikaela muttered

"Well, she's been through a lot."

"And what about me?"

"Well….you…"

"I was what?"

Sam shook his head and raised his hands in a placating gesture that had Mikaela smirking.

"You're a Cybertronian."

"Yes. We established that long ago."

"And I mean….the Brotherhood couldn't have really done anything to you," Sam shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but his hands were shaking and there was an edge in his voice.

Oh, he had no idea. No idea that the Brotherhood had just been the opening act of some horrific performance.

But leave it to Sam to have to state the obvious or speak when his mouth should really be shut.

"They turned my father against me. That's the worst thing of all."

"Your father turned against _you_," Sam pointed out.

Mikaela didn't know if it was a failed attempt to make her feel better or….

"Whatever," Mikaela turned and began to walk away, shoulders slumped and footsteps heavy. She loved Sam….erm…she thought, but right now she wanted him to go away and take his unnatural talent of spewing absolute shit with him.

"Hey!"

"What?" She snarled.

"I mean…It's true."

Mikaela's laugh was so high pitched that several lone soldiers strolling through the hangar stopped and stared.

"Oh…I know what you mean. Yeah, my father, my own father, couldn't _stand_ the way his daughter looked. Couldn't stand how she was a _freak_."

Sam stopped walking and stared, mouth agape.

"And I bet you agree with him."

"Listen, Mikaela…" Sam approached, but Mikaela deadly glare must have swayed his decision to hug her because, as soon as his hands got an inch away from her leg, he pulled back as if he had touched an electric fence.

"What? Just say what you need to say and….leave me alone for just a second."

"I…I'm sorry."

"You don't mean that."

"I'm sorry," his voice rose. "I'm sorry all this has happened to you, okay? I'm sorry. It should have been me and it shouldn't have been you."

Now it was Mikaela's turn to be silent.

"But it wasn't."

"It was_ you_," Sam's lips were trembling and one lone tear rolled down his cheek. "And I mean, I love you an all….but I just_ can't_."

"You just can't what?"

Sam gestured too her body, to her shining silver armor and her glowing blue optics.

"I can't just do _this_."

Mikaela's expression was blank as she watched her boyfriend turn.

"And maybe I can't do you, either," she whispered.

And then Sam was gone.


	21. Let it Go

Mikaela sat in her room with her back against the wall, legs crossed, eyes focused on the wall.

Trying to shut Sam's sudden support of her fathers reason, telling herself that he didn't understand, hadn't understood her situation and never would. That he was just a nonentity in her life, a nuisance that was now taken care of.

No more awkward kissing or hugging or anything like that.

But even then, after all the reassurance and doubt, she was still empty. Carved out from the insides, the essence of her very being scooped out with a spoon.

It wasn't a good feeling.

Mikaela tried something else to pass the time, something Ratchet had taught her long ago, but she had never found much need to use it. Accessing the internet, logging into the network, was easy.

But finding out the truth, wasn't.

Everything regarding Mikaela Banes had been deleted. Her Facebook, gone. Some silly blogs she had made three years earlier, gone.

Her E-mail, gone. And so on.

Mikaela could only sit and stare as the information flashed across her eyescreen.

She had some vague idea of who had done it, but she was sure a confirmation would only set her off. And she was sure Megatron didn't want to be on the end of her wrath.

He was trying to persuade her. Get her to realize that the humans offered nothing. That he was the ultimate choice, the only choice in her pitiful existence and joining him would put her out of whatever misery she was enduring.

Mikaela leaned back, her head bumping against the wall, optics closing.

What an idiot she was, to think that her relationships would last. To think that Sam would still love her after everything she had been through.

But then again, maybe that was _her_. Maybe _she_ had been the one forcing it, and Sam had just been the victim, as he always was. Before everything – before she had met the Autobots, before her horrible transformation – she had always played the mean girl. The one who got all the guys. The one who got all the toys.

And obviously the one with all the toys got to decide who else got to play.

She was just used to being the one who broke the boy's heart. Not the one who got her own heart broken.

Mikaela shook her head and eyed the little black box that she had placed somewhere in the corner, under her berth, hidden from prying eyes.

She was alone.

Maybe….

No! Don't give in to temptation. It only leads to bad things, and Mikaela had had enough bad things happen to her already.

But maybe….

Two battles raged inside her mind. One to open the box, one not to.

Oh, what the hell. She had nothing else to lose, anyway.

Mikaela's fingers closed around the cube and she lifted it up, running her fingers around the engraved black surface. It looked like an old Cybertronian relic. It even reminded her off the Allspark, with its surface radiating with power.

She found the crease in the box and popped open the top, reaching inside and pulling out a small microchip. Pinching it in between her fingers, she looked it over, an optic ride rising in curiosity.

"What the hell…." She breathed.

A note was inside. Typed, so she had no idea who wrote it.

_Sweet dreams, femme. You know what to do._

Mikaela did.

* * *

><p>She was lost.<p>

She didn't know which way was up or which way was down. Didn't know if there was any difference.

All she could understand was that she was lost. Lost in a sea of emotions, each one piling on top of each other like Russian nesting dolls, one over the other over the other and there was nothing else Mikaela could do but watch.

And then, memories. _Her _memories.

Meeting Sam for the first time, meeting Bumblebee and seeing the Autobots for who they truly were.

Watching Sam die. Watching him come back to life and then watching Optimus do the same, the whole time raw emotions sweeping through her at the speed of light, her brain so slow as to comprehend them, her body trapped in an immobile state that made her seem _weak._

But she wasn't weak. She was strong. And the strong survived, as Megatron had said, and she had to be strong and come back…..

"Mikaela!"

Don't fight.

"_Mikaela_!"

Hands were on her, hoisting her up and slamming her against the wall. Strong arms.

"_Mikaela! Wake up_."

Mikaela woke up, staring directly into a pair of bright blue optics not even an inch away from hers. Fingers digging into the seams of the armor on her arms, effortlessly pinning her down as if she were made of air.

"What…."

Optimus was still holding onto her, but after a few moments, his grip slackened and Mikaela was able to wriggle freed, sliding off her berth and trying to stand.

Her processors were still a jumbled mess, warning signs flashing across her vision, so bright that it just added to all the disarray. She stumbled and nearly tripped.

"What happened," she groaned, clutching her head.

"You tell me," Optimus reached down and picked up the box. "What is this?"

Mikaela gulped and watched Prime held the box tighter, the metal groaning in protest.

"Mikaela…."

"Starscream gave it to me."

Mikaela wasn't exactly blaming the Seeker. The emotions…the experience had been a rush. Like nothing she had ever felt before, like nothing she would ever feel before. It was something utterly, creepily human.

She could dream again.

"They're dreamers…." Optimus turned it around, holding it in his palm and staring down at it. He then gave a small, mirthless laugh. "I haven't seen one of these since the fall of Cybertron."

Mikaela crossed her arms and stared at the Prime.

"I didn't know…."

"I know."

"It felt wonderful."

"I know it does," Optimus closed his fingers around the box. "Why did Starscream give this too you?"

Mikaela didn't know. Was it a gift to woo her into becoming his new toy, or a gift out of the generosity of his spark? From the way Prime had described them, the boxes were a rare treasure.

And Starscream, the little freak, wasn't the type to give out of pure kindness. He was unpredictable and wild, like a tornado. And that was what made him so dangerous.

"I don't know," Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. "Megatron's orders?"

"Highly unlikely."

"Yeah. I guess."

The silence stretched on, Optimus shifting back and forth on his pedes, looking as if he wanted to say something, but had been sapped of all confidence. For the first time, a shadow came over his features. A shadow of vulnerability and doubt.

"We brought some of your personal items," Optimus said. "I assumed you would do what you want with them later."

She didn't want things that would remind her of her past, but she didn't tell Optimus that. She didn't want pictures and video's of her and her parents, back when her mother was still alive and her dad wasn't as cracked up as he was now.

The thought to her father sent a pang of guilt coursing down her frame. Her father, the one she supposedly hated, was sitting in jail while his own daughter betrayed everyone and everything she cherished just for the sake of his own freedom. Just so he could go and screw her over again, like he had the last time.

For the millionth time she cursed Megatron. Him, Starscream, and above all else, _her _and her imprudence.

She just murmured, "thanks."

"Are you feeling well?"

"Not so good, now that I'm boyfriend-less."

"You mean single?"

"Yeah. That too," Mikaela's lips pulled upward in a fake smile. She shook her head, swinging her legs rhythmically back and forth. Optimus watched her, optics focusing more on her body than anything else.

"Listen, Sam - "

"I know about Sam. He's a naïve little moron, okay. And Trina….well….lets not even go there with her."

"Trina still cares for you," Optimus waved his hand. "She's still upset over what happened with the Brotherhood. If I were you, Mikaela, I would give her some time."

Again, the guilt came back, full force and Mikaela found herself gesturing to the dreamer clutched firmly in Optimus' hand.

"Can I have it? The dreamer," she was already reaching for it, hand outstretched but blocked by Optimus, who grabbed her wrist.

"No," he said firmly, and released her.

"Why?"

Optimus contemplated for a moment before opening his palm and staring at the device. Sullenly, he said, "there is a reason I do not let my soldiers use these. They can be….addicting."

"I wonder why…." Mikaela murmured, holding her arms against her stomach.

"Most Cybertronians's view them as an escape from the real world. They try to separate themselves from all the war…all the hardships, and end up losing track of what's real and what's not. I've seen mech's and femme's alike trap themselves in a virtual world, unaware that it is not _real_."

"In other words, their bodies remain while their minds take a permanent vacation," Mikaela's own hands shook, and she had to grip the edge of the berth to make them stop.

"Yes. Now do you understand why I don't advise the use of these?" he shook the dreamer in his hand, not taking his eyes off Mikaela. "It's for your own safety, Mikaela, trust me."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You didn't know."

"I _should_ have," Mikaela chuckled. "Yeah, stupid me. Yeah, it was like, Starscream, a Decepticon, mind you, gives me a present and I don't even check to see if it was a bomb or whatever."

She had just wanted to get away, and as Optimus bid her a farewell with the dreamer in his hand, she couldn't help but crawl onto her berth and beat the metal with her fist until it hurt.

Yeah. Smart Mikaela. Smart stupid, stupid smart.


	22. King of Douche

**Sorry for the late update. I just needed a little break. **

**Anyway, I don't own Transformers. Never have, never will. Enjoy and, as always, REVIEW….!**

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you're making me do this," Mikaela's fingers were curled around Ratchet's wrist as he tried to guide her into her chair. Her feet screeched across the floor and her fist beat against his arm, but his grip did not slacken.<p>

She looked and felt like a little girl fighting her mother over something she wanted at the store. Minus the wailing and crying, although she was quite tempted at this point.

The chair groaned under her weight but did not break. It was one of the many Cybertronian sized apparel in the base, but Mikaela felt as if it made her stand out even more. As she sat, she tried to toy with her fingers and then shifting uncomfortably.

Ratchet sat down beside her and leaned over to whisper in her ear, "_don't_ make a scene."

"No problem, doc bot," Mikaela muttered back, winking. Her optics were scanning the area, seeing that there were only four other chairs in the room, each seating a different mech or femme.

Sunstreaker sat in one, slumped down, looking pissed and amused at the same time, if possible. To his right, Ironhide, looking like Ironhide. Arcee, sitting proudly in one chair even though the chair was almost _too_ big for her. Next to her, one of the Chevy twins. Mudflap, Mikaela guessed? She hadn't seen any of the others in such a long time.

In the center of the circle, another human sized chair. Mikaela had to lean over to see who it was, part of her praying that it wasn't Trina.

It wasn't. It was another woman, older than Trina, her red hair curling around her face. Her legs stuck out of her white dress as she crossed her legs, and she had a folder stocked with papers in her lap.

Mikaela sat back and scoffed.

"What?" Ratchet said softly.

"Where's Trina?"

"You want to see that femme? After what she said to you?"

Mikaela's optic ridges rose, and she crossed her arms, staring at Ratchet. "_What_? Has Optimus pulled his head out of the network long enough to gossip with you?"

"More like report," Ratchet waved his hand as if it wasn't important. "He knows what's going on around here. He has too."

"And yeah, so do I."

Ratchet's mouth opened to testify, but he closed it and directed his attention to the woman, who was standing up, papers folded under her arms. She stared up at the mech's and femme's with such pity that it made Mikaela sick.

"Thank you all for being here. My name is Kyra – surely some of you have heard of me?"

Nope. Mikaela hadn't. But she wasn't about to say that out loud. Ironhide's sudden snort and slumped posture depicted her own words just fine.

"It's truly an honor," Arcee muttered, not taking her eyes off Mikaela. Mikaela suddenly felt very, very small. She dwarfed Arcee with ease, but the air of deadliness surrounding the other femme made her nervous.

"Now, why don't we start of with the basics. Each other name's," Kyra dropped the papers in the chair and stared up at the Cybertronians's, arms crossed.

"Do we really - "

Kyra's glare said otherwise.

"Mikaela Banes."

"Ratchet. _Surely you know me_."

That earned some snickers.

"Ironhide."

"Arcee."

"Mudflap."

"This is ridiculous."

Sunstreaker's words had everyone nodding their heads in unison. Kyra placed her hands on her hips and stared long and hard at Sunstreaker, who didn't seemed the least bit fazed. In fact, he seemed amused that fleshy would dare stand up to him.

"Whatever," Kyra busied herself by grabbing papers and shuffling through them angrily. She looked up and said, "now you all know that we have a new Cybertronian in this room - "

All these stares were making Mikaela _really_ uncomfortable….

"- And that she's having trouble accepting her fate. The reason I wanted you all to meet her was to convince her _why _she is better off living as one of your kind."

"I've already met her," Ironhide rumbled. "She's the Witwicky boy's mate."

It was like being slapped in the face. Mikaela's cooling fans switched on and she felt her fist clench.

"Mikaela? Do you want to talk about that?" Kyra's gaze had gone soft and she stared up at Mikaela as if she actually cared. "Anything regarding your relationship with Sam? We're all here to listen and provide the correct guidance."

"No."

Kyra finally seemed to surrender to the fact that, yes, none of the others wanted to hear about Mikaela's sappy human life and screwed up relationships.

Kyra turned and began to speak again, her back to Mikaela. Leaning over, the silver Cybertronian whispered in Ratchet's ear, using her hand to block out Kyra's senseless rambling.

"I hate this."

"I know."

"….about the advantages of being a Cybertronian," Kyra concluded, slapping her hands together and turned to Mikaela. She looked back and forth, at Arcee, who shrugged, and Mudflap, who looked bored. "Anyone?"

"No more disgusting lubricants," Sunstreaker spoke immediately. Of course he was the first to speak, Mikaela thought. Of course he was the first to diss the human race, and the one to do it right. Hail to the Chief.

"Stronger," Ironhide added. "No unnecessary parts. Your body is a living weapon with a multitude of modifications and enhancements. You sight and sense of hearing and smell if acute. Your intelligence is beyond anything the planet has seen."

Great. She was an Ironhide, apparently. Fully converted. And he hadn't even mentioned aging, yet. Hadn't mention that "aging" didn't exist anymore, that she would outlive everyone. Trina, Sam, her father, Fisher...any human she had ever know. And, considering her background, she had known a lot of humans.

"And that's suppose to make me feel better how?" Mikaela said.

"Think about it. What human would want to mess with these?" Ironhide raised his arms, showing his cannons.

"Any human looking for a death wish," Kyra added bitterly. She was rocking back and forth on her heels, looking as if she wanted to say something.

"Yo can finally kick Decepticon aft," Mudflap. "Ya know, az' apposed to before, when ya couldn't do jackshit and…."

He trailed off, earning him a punch in the side of the helm from Arcee. She had been unusually quite, taking more time to analyze Mikaela. She was the first Cybertronian femme Mikaela had seen, and she wasn't about to pass up a chance to speak with her.

"What about you, Arcee?" Mikaela said, raisin her optic ridges and leaning forward, her chain groaning and creaking under the sudden change of weight. "Do you have anything?"

"Driving."

"You have more…" Mikaela waggled her finger.

"And flying, for some of the lucky ones. But I see you're a ground vehicle so…" she shrugged.

"And...and..." Mudflap tapped his chin with his finger. "Oh, ya, and no more sunburn."

"What the hell..." Mikaela began.

"Wonderful!" Kyra piped in, her heels clicking against the floor as she clapped her hands. "Isn't this great? I knew you guy's would come up with something!" she clapped again.

She wasn't doing a good job of imitating Trina's peppy demeanor. In fact, she was a disaster and Mikaela found herself disliking the woman with every passing minute.

"It's not like I don't think about it," Mikaela began, sighing. Each mech and femme' leaned in to listen. "I mean, my human life was pretty good. Not great, but good. I mean, I had enough to get by. But…."

"You like this life better?"

"Let me finish, Sunstreaker," Mikaela snapped.

Sunstreaker ignored her. "Admit it, Banes. You value your new life more than your old. Come now, don't be ashamed. _We're all here to listen and provide the correct guidance_."

Kyra didn't seem to understand why everyone was snickering.

Mikaela watched each mech and femme as they seemed to be staring at her, various expression plastered on their faceplates. They were, metaphorically, waiting with baited breath, and Mikaela wasn't about to disappoint them.

"Yes. I guess I do."

Beside her, Ratchet slapped his hand across his thigh. Kyra's eyebrows rose and her mouth pulled into a tight line.

"See. Clearly we are the dominant species," Sunstreaker boasted, slamming his foot down near Kyra. The human woman stumbled and nearly lost her footing, saving herself and grabbing onto her chair.

"Whoa…whoa…" Mikaela raised her hands in a placating gesture. "We aren't going into the whole humans vs. Cybertronians's thing. The Brotherhood had already accomplished that. And we aren't the Brotherhood, right?"

Several nods.

"Right…so," Mikaela looked down at Kyra. "I'm sorry. Sunstreaker was being a douche."

"He's always been a 'douche'," Ratchet added.

"I heard that, doc bot."

"You were meant to."

"I think that this meeting is coming to an unexpected conclusion," Kyra laced her fingers together, shooting Sunstreaker a glare before gesturing towards the door. "You know the way out."

"Kicking us out now, fleshy?" Sunstreaker was the first to stand, stepping over Kyra and thudding towards the door. "Very courageous of you."

He opened the door, and was gone.

"Primus help that mech," Arcee shook her helm. She hopped off her seat, her tire groaning as she rolled towards the door. She turned to Kyra, not towering over her like others, but simply able to reach down and pat her shoulder. "It was nice of you to put this all together, Kyra."

She rolled away, Mudflap following behind and only shrugging at Mikaela.

"Tell Optimus that I'm angry at him," Mikaela hissed as she and Ratchet made their way out the door. "He has to repay me."

"I'm sure he'll be thrilled," Ratchet said, his eyes following the yellow corvette as it weaved through the hallway, dodging humans left and right.

Mikaela's lip plates pulled into a tight line as she followed Ratchet's gaze, a part of her wondering why she had agreed with Sunstreaker in the first place. She hadn't though about it, it was just like peer pressure all over again. Like when Bliss Taft – the stupid tweaker – had tried to convince her to smoke weed because everyone else was doing it. Mikaela had declined his offer and had left him in a state of depression.

This wasn't any different, she suspected. Except for her peers were a group of dysfunctional alien robots trying to get her to be someone she wasn't. To say something she would have never said in front of Sam or Trina or even Ratchet, for that matter.

Mikaela watched Sunstreaker without missing a beat and found herself cursing his name. Of course he had set the whole thing up, had played her like a fiddle.

Hail the Chief? More like Hail to the Douche.


	23. Right and Wrong

Mikaela didn't know what she was doing, or why she was doing it.

She had tried to put the dreamers out of her mind. Optimus' lecture had done its job, and now the dreamers were tucked safety away in his own quarters, away from Mikaela and any other Autobot who wanted their minds to take a vacation.

It was a based on hypocrisy, Mikaela thought. Who was to say that Prime, the all-knowing Optimus Prime hadn't been drowning his own mind in _dreams, _false images that flashed through his processors at the speed of light, certainly nothing a human could ever experience, while Mikaela just sat alone and wallowed in self-pity.

She called her mission, her little operation, an attempt to take back something that rightfully belonged to her. Starscream had known of the dangers. Certainly, he wasn't trying to kill her. He needed her for his so-called "revolution," to work, whatever that meant. He knew she wasn't weak and that she could take it.

And she would take it. Just take it back from someone else, which would ultimately make her a thief.

She was already a traitor, so why not add theft to the list?

Mikaela observed Prime the first day, watching him punch in the code to enter his own quarters, memorized the patterns that would ultimately keep unwanted visitors from browsing through whatever he had hidden in there. And being the naïve little Prime he was, Mikaela knew that he would never think of an Autobot going to snoop through his private stash.

In the dead of night, she awoke from recharge, her pedes silent as she crept through the dark hallway. Optimus was gone, she had made sure of that, enduring another late-night meeting that would probably leave him stumped, defeated, and tired.

She punched in the code and, in a few seconds, was rummaging under his berth, finding the dreamer and taking it.

Nothing but the small box mattered. Nothing. She had closed the door behind her, shuffling back towards her own room. As soon as the door shut she pressed her back against it and slid down onto the floor, her legs pulled up against her.

She sat there for a remainder of the night with the dreamer tucked in one hand, feeling content to never let it go.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Mikaela sat in her usual spot behind the shed, her back to the world, her fingers running over the artifact in her hand. Should she plug it in now? Shut the world away and succumb to her own subconscious, delusional mind?

It seemed reasonable, with Trina standing in front of her, her hands on her hips and her lips curved downward in a frown.

"What is that," she said, jerking her chin towards the dreamer.

Mikaela clamped her fist over the artifact, crossing her arms, tucking the dreamer away, away from Trina's prying eyes. She wouldn't know – wouldn't _understand_.

The last thing she needed was for Trina to go blabbing to Optimus, who Mikaela was trying her hardest to avoid. It was just like her first month of becoming a Cybertronian, trying to hide away from the intense stares and soft whispers of the soldiers as they observed her. Hiding away and never wanting to come out.

"What do you want? I thought you hated me?" Mikaela snapped.

"I never said that I hated you. Now, what is _that_?" Trina gestured again towards the dreamer and that was when a part of Mikaela wanted to step on the little human, turn her into a smear beneath her pedes.

No, no, no. She couldn't think like one or else she would become one.

"It's none of your business," Mikaela muttered, shifting her leg ever so slightly.

"As your physical therapist - "

"Oh God, Trina, is this your way of apologizing?" Mikaela asked, incredulous. "Because if it is, you're doing a pretty sucky job."

Trina's lips pulled into a tight line, brushing a few strands of dark hair out of her eyes. It was like rehab all over again, the uncomfortable silence between the two girls – one Cybertronian, one most definitely human – even more prominent than before.

"I didn't mean what I said."

"I know you didn't."

"Yeah, because you know _everything_," Trina said with a mirthless laugh. "As a Cybertronian, that comes as a bonus. Never get old, never really…." her hands shook and her face turned red. "Whatever."

She leaned back and sat down beside Mikaela.

"What are you doing here?"

"Sam sent me."

"Oh, so you and Sam are so incredible _tight_ now?"

"He wanted to say….he wanted me to tell you that he and Bumblebee are going back up to Tranquility tomorrow, and that he wants to tell you goodbye."

"In person?"

"I'm his messenger, and this is me telling you that he said goodbye."

"The little coward," Mikaela snarled, clenching the dreamer so hard that she heard it groan. Trina tilted her head upward, full lips pulling into a frown, her eyes narrowing.

"Again, I have to ask, what do you have in your hand?"

"You wouldn't get it."

"I've heard that more than enough times, and I'm telling you, _I get it_."

Mikaela, looking around to make sure Optimus wasn't watching from afar, she uncrossed her arms and held out the dreamer, holding in front of Trina's face as if it were some display.

Trina was silent.

"What is it?" she finally asked.

Mikaela snatched her hand back, running her fingers over the dreamer. "It's….I don't know how to describe it."

"You don't have to," Trina stood and crossed her arms. "I saw Prime walking to the med bay with one of those," Her eyes widened and she breathed, "you didn't…"

"I did."

"He's going to be pissed if he finds out. Might even pull a Ratchet on you. Hit you upside the head with a wrench himself."

Mikaela leaned forward, bracing her hands against the ground on either side of Trina, coming eye-to-eye with the human female, her gaze threatening.

"Not if you keep your trap shut."

Trina was messing with her hair, her eyes directed at the sky. A fruitless attempt to hide her discomfort. "I can't make any promises."

"You won't."

"He'll find out eventually. Optimus doesn't think to highly of thieves."

"It belonged to _me_," Mikaela growled, easing up out of Trina's face. "And since when have you known anything about Optimus?"

"_Optimus_? _The_ Optimus Prime, defender of Earth, yada yada?" Trina raised her eyebrows, pretending to be surprised by the question. "He was the one who recommended that I be your physical therapist. Maybe because he thought you and I would get along."

Mikaela grimaced. She and Trina weren't anything alike, now that she thought about it. Trina's family was rich – millionaires, practically, who ran one of the largest cooperation's in the world. She was practically swimming in cash, yet, of all the job occupations she could have chosen from, she chose one that practically had her nurturing a sick, delusional, human-turned-_alien_.

"And you took the job?"

"I took it."

"Why?"

"Because I was bored with my life," Trina crossed her legs and stared out at the tarmac ahead. "Because I never saw my parents. My mom traveled and my dad traveled, and I felt like, as heir to the Garrison family fortune, I needed to do something with my life."

Mikaela barked a laugh, the dreamer all but abandoned beside her as she stared down at Trina.

"And….and you chose _this_? You chose to work with _this_?" she gestured down at her new body, at her shiny silver armor that was supposed to make her better, but at the same time made her feel worse. "What were you drinking?"

"I wasn't drinking anything."

"And how did that job work out for you? Do you still think I'm a monster?"

"I never," Trina faltered, thinking for a moment before saying, under her breath, "I…no. I was wrong, yesterday, when I said…."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Are you going to give it back?"

"No."

"You should."

"I don't need you telling me what to do," Mikaela began to stand, joints creaking. "And I can make my own choices."

She barely heard Trina's next words as she transformed, tires squealing against the tarmac.

"Clearly, you might need some help."

* * *

><p>That night, Mikaela began to slip into recharge, content and happy.<p>

The dreamer lay bedside her, and she didn't know what to do with it. The battle in her mind raged, trying to choose between right from wrong.

Use it and get a free ticket to happy land?

Use it, get a free ticket to happy land, and possible be stuck there forever?

But, then again, for an Autobot, how long was forever? The species lived – they rarely ever died unless in the event of a catastrophe, like the ones Mikaela was used to facing. Usually they died like Jetfire, poor, old Jetfire, sacrificing the last of himself for the greater good.

Maybe they just lived forever.

Mikaela didn't know. And if they did live forever, what was to stop Mikaela's body from never rotting away or decaying as time passed, as she drifted in and out of her own dreams?

She reached for the dreamer. Getting lost seemed like a good thing.

A ping inside her head indicating that someone was trying to comm her stopped her fingers from grabbing the dreamer. She froze, and if she would have had lungs, she would have sucked in a breath. But she didn't, and she could only lay still.

**"I hope you're enjoying my little present.**"

Mikaela could almost imagine Starscream's sneer. It had infected her mind recently, like a plague, spreading and spreading.

**"What do you want?"**

**"To meet you," **Starscream was silent for a moment, leaving Mikaela laying there in the pitch darkness. **"Come alone."**

**"Who said I was ever coming?"**

**"You will if you know what's good for you," **through the link, Mikaela heard a snicker. **"And, as always, I took precautions. I'm only a mile away from your current location. I can hack into the bases system, override the security and be sure that you get out without anyone detecting you."**

Mikaela spark was thrumming. Starscream couldn't hurt her. No. Megatron had specifically told him that she was off-limits. But then again, when did _Starscream _ever care about what Megatron wanted?

**"I…"**

**"It's not a request, femme, it's an order."**

**"Since when did you become the boss of me?"**

**"Oh, my dear _Mikaela_," **Starscream sneered. The way he said her name, the way it seemed to role of his tongue, had always sickened Mikaela. It was as if he owned her. **_"_I've owned you for a long, long time. Now get up."**

Mikaela got up, her fingers gripping for the door, but not before shoving the dreamer under her berth.

**"Where are we going?" **she paused, her hand braced against the door.

**"Shh," **Starscream hissed. **"Just find me, and all will be revealed."**


	24. New and Improved

"You weren't kidding when you said 'risky,' were you, Screamer?" Mikaela hissed, flattening herself against the dirt, the pine needles and sharp thorns feeling like gentle caresses against her armor.

Beside her, Starscream shifted his position, lying on his stomach, not saying a word. He, too, was focusing on the looming structures ahead, no doubt crowded full of Cybertronian-hating humans who seemed to spend a great deal of time doing nothing.

It was the Brotherhood of Man's main headquarters, owned by the all-knowing, all-powerful Caine Fisher himself. It wasn't just one building – it was a cluster of them, all fortified and secured so nothing got in, or out. It was like one giant, guarded asylum full of insane people with even more insane methods.

"You think my Dad is in there?" Mikaela whispered. They were far away - so far that the security camera's and guards had no chance of spotting them – but even then, Mikaela felt as if someone were watching her. And it wasn't just Starscream that was making her uncomfortable, as he inched closer and closer, heat radiating off his motionless frame, it was the fact that they were out, alone, in the middle of the night, in a place where they weren't wanted.

"If he _was_, we would know," Starscream replied, his red optics trained and unblinking. "If it makes you feel any better, I can assure you that Megatron had been tracking your fathers whereabouts for quite some time."

"And?" Mikaela urged softly.

"You have to give the little fleshies some credit," Starscream shrugged. "They move him almost every other day, to a different _hideout_, in a different _location_, undetectable even to our most innovative trackers."

"They're expecting you."

"They're expecting _you_," in the dark, Mikaela saw Starscream's lip plates curve upward in a nasty smile. "Fisher is becoming even more paranoid, especially after what happened last time he underestimated you."

He laughed, the sound sending a cold shiver down Mikaela back. She dug her elbows into the dirt and scooted closer to Starscream, careful to go slow and soundless. She knew that the guards couldn't see them with the naked eye, but if they had some sort of long-range, night vision goggles….

"Starscream?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me one thing," she stopped for a moment, her processors trying to come up with the best choice of words. Finally, after cycling her vents, she said softly, "did Megatron send Barricade to kill me?"

Starscream didn't respond, the stretching silence unnerving. Mikaela began to aimlessly pick at the dirt, her large finger digging holes big enough to fit a human's foot, trying to shut out the sound that were roaring in her head. Metal against metal, screams, fire and blood, so _much _fire and blood...

"Barricade never made it to the battle of Mission City," Starscream finally snarled. "The little glitch missed that fight. Megatron has been searching for him – we all have – but we've all come up with the same results."

"_Gone_," Mikaela murmured. "Comes, strikes once, and then disappears."

"It wasn't by Megatron's orders that he attacked."

Mikaela was silent, and she found her optics drifting back and forth from the ground to the guards standing by the gate that would, ultimately, lead into some type of hell. Starscream noticed the little dance her eyes were doing and snorted.

"Stop worrying, Mikaela," Starscream said, sounding even more disgusted than his expression portrayed. "They're just_ humans_."

Mikaela snorted but did not say a word. The way he said her name sickened her, the way it rolled of his tongue sounding to soft, too sweet, too tempting….

"So," she finally said, shoving the thought away, "why exactly did you bring me out here?"

"Call it a short field-trip," Starscream waved one hand as if the wording wasn't important. "An escape, if you will."

"An escape from what?"

"Prison," Starscream smirked and leaned on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. On any other day, Mikaela would have laughed at the pose, but the dangerous gleam in his red optics was enough to make her keep her mouth shut. "Having Prime and the rest of those buffoons hounding you all day….it must make you quite anxious. Am I right?"

"Wrong."

"You enjoy spending time with _them_? If you had originally been in the Decepticon ranks, you would have been trailed for perfidy."

" 'perfidy' seems like a pretty big word coming from you," Mikaela smirked. "I'm not lying to anyone in the Decepticon army."

Starscream raised one optic ridge, and Mikaela felt her confidence drain away.

"How did you know?" she muttered.

"About the dreamer?" Starscream barked a laugh, sending several birds fluttering away into the sky. "Because I _know_ Prime. The little rat went hysterical after _her_ death. And I knew, the moment I placed that little device into your palm that you were going to do something unbelievable stupid and have it confiscated. Optimus doesn't like to play with toys whose_ minds_ are permanently offline."

"And stealing it back? How did the ever-so-brilliant mind of Air Commander Starscream possibly predict that I would - "

"You're a Decepticon. You tell me."

"I'm not a Decepticon."

"You think like one," he tapped the side of his helm. "It's your basic programming. _Her _basic programming."

"I've not giving in."

"You'll have to, _eventually_," Starscream's words were laced with so much malice that Mikaela found herself gulping down air. As he inched closer, one talon going to stroke down her back, she squirmed under his grip. Already she could feel her cooling fans kick on, and, as Starscream's gestures became rougher, Mikaela willed herself not to pounce.

It would be a fair fight. Mikaela was agile, slim and built for nothing but speed. Evading his attacks would be easy….

"Listening to the callous remarks of the humans _must _irritate you in some way."

"You irritate me in every way," Mikaela snarled, finally finding the strength the roll out of his grip. She came up, sitting on her knees, cheeks flushing when she saw Starscream's optics roaming over her frame.

He reached for her.

"Don't touch me," she snarled.

"I can touch you if I want."

"Touch me, and I'll _kill _you.

His razor laugh sliced through the air, the noise so hideous that it made Mikaela want to vomit right then and there. Already, her joints were creaking, fist clenching and unclenching. It was as if her body was _looking _for a fight. Like men lusted for women, Mikaela inner demon lusted for _violence._

"I was just stating the facts," Starscream spread his arms wide, as if he were accepting Mikaela's silent invitation to do battle. "You honestly don't believe me?"

"Me? Believe you? Starscream the _traitor_?"

"Traitors are can only be identified as traitors if they've committed the crimes. Humans, on the other hand - ."

"Enough with the human this, human that shit," Mikaela raised her hands, her optics wide. "I…I can't take it…you sound like Fisher."

"Fisher and I share many of the same beliefs. His are just a bit more…_.radical_."

"Say's the Decepticon who wants to overthrow Megatron and claim the Decepticon army for his own. You know, it was really stupid telling me your whole master plan. Megatron would love to hear it from - ."

It was as if she had been hit with a billion pounds of steel. She went sprawling out onto the dirt, limbs askew, cheek slamming into the dirt, and all the while, Starscream, straddling her to the ground and raising his fist.

"Speak one word of this to Megatron," he hissed into her audio receptors. "And I will personally put an end to your miserable existence."

Mikaela struggled under the weight of a mech ten times her size.

"Whatever. Do what you want to me…." she managed.

"Pah!" Starscream barked. "As if your existence matters to you anymore. You're a fool, Mikaela Banes, a _fool._"

He reared back, slapped her hard, and she saw stars.

"_Wake up_," he snarled. "You are not a human anymore, Mikaela. Acting as if you are will only add to the distress."

"I'm not distressed."

A knee dug into her stomach and she wheezed.

"Roadrunner always was a foolish little femme. Monogamy meant nothing to her. Her choices mirrored her demeanor – harsh, daft, indiscreet."

Mikaela was silent.

"It's _disappointing_ to say that you share some of those same traits."

He lifted himself off her, gently, way to gently, standing above her. Mikaela's spark thrummed wildly as his words replayed over and over in her mind.

_Foolish little Mikaela. Foolish little girl._

"Get up," he ordered. "And let's go. It was a nice chat, while it lasted."

Hands shaking, knees banging together so hard that she was sure the guards at the Brotherhood HQ would hear, she stood up, trying to act dignified by brushing a few leaves off her armor. It only made her look more like an idiot.

Starscream was busy staring off into the sky, up at shining stars that seemed way too bright, and a moon that seemed way to full.

"I should be able to help you get back in. We weren't gone long, so I'm sure _no one _noticed your absence." Starscream said, pursing his lip plates, his frame hunched and exhausted, the most vulnerable position Mikaela had ever seen him acquire. Then, straightening up, he placed one hand on her back and shoved her forward.

**"Drive," **he commed, thrusters kicking into action as he leaped in the air, joints shifting, parts rearranging themselves in one miraculous display that would have left anyone else speechless.

But Mikaela was used to seeing the Decepticon transform. And that in itself was frightening.

She transform and drove away without looking back, leaving that horrible building behind her.


	25. Sly Mechs are the Best Mechs

She snuck the dreamer back into Optimus' quarters three nights later, while he was in another meeting, being bombarded with accusations and insults from this government official and that.

Let him have the dreamer. Let him go back on his word.

Already, Mikaela was antsy and tired, the whole ordeal with Starscream leaving her confused, her processors a whirl of activity. It didn't help that Optimus seemed to be floating around her, now, like a shield. Like he would take a bullet for her, and that, Mikaela thought, should be a good thing.

Then how come she felt it wasn't? Everyone noticed his sudden attachment. Trina, being Trina, had said a few words before going back to caring about which skirt she should wear and what earring matched her shirt. Ratchet had made a snide remark. Hell, even _Ironhide_ had commented about it. That mech didn't care about the social lives of others unless it contained explosions, action, and cannons. He didn't say it to her face, of course. She had overheard him talking to Ratchet in the med bay, voice lowered as if he _knew_ he shouldn't be talking.

But, then again, that was Ironhide. Half the stuff he said or did ended up known throughout the base.

"Did you recharge well?"

"Hardly," Mikaela muttered, crossing her arms over her silver chassis and matching Optimus' pace as he walked beside her. He, too, looked worse for wear, and it probably wasn't fair that _he _was the one concerned for her well-being. Selfless as always, Mikaela thought with a smile. You almost_ never_ found that in any human man.

"Was something troubling you last night? There was an awful amount of rainfall - "

"I heard it," Mikaela said. "But I…um…recharged right through it. Even as a human, I was a heavy sleeper."

He chuckled. "Understandable. I'm that way myself."

He and Mikaela shared a morbid laugh, almost free of any mirth. As they walked, the humans seemed to clear out of the way, brushing up against walls and letting them through. Letting the boss bot through, probably. Mikaela wasn't as threatening as the rest of them.

But still, one missed step….

The med bay, as well as most of the bot's quarters, were on the far end of the base. Not many humans went down there, and a part of Mikaela didn't blame them for not wanting to be completely surrounded by giants like Prime.

The hallway was practically empty. Optimus thudded beside Mikaela, deep in thought as he reached the med bay.

And then, noises from inside. Metal against metal and clanging, cursing, and….was that….

"I wouldn't -"Optimus began, but Mikaela had already wrenched open the door.

She barely got a glimpse of Ratchet pulling his lips away from Ironhide's, leaping off his lap, flailing back and smashing into the opposite wall, the noise like the end of the world.

Mikaela just stared. Optimus made a noise in the back of his throat that would have been funny on any other day, watching as Ratchet, optics wide, leaned against the wall and tried to look innocent, the way his lip plates twitched giving it all away.

Ironhide just shrugged and walked out the door, brushing past Optimus, shoulders bristling.

_Typical._

"I always wondered what you two do in your spare time," Mikaela said to Ratchet, a dangerous smile toying at the corners of her lips.

* * *

><p>"So are you and Hide…like…." Mikaela twisted her fingers together.<p>

"Sometimes. When we feel like it."

"I guess monogamy sucks and blows," she muttered. Then, "So….you have those parts?" Mikaela tilted her head to the side, widened her optics, and then began to furiously shake her head. "Never mind. Never mind. I don't want to know. I honest to God don't want to know."

"Good," Ratchet said gruffly. "Because I don't want to explain it. Right, Optimus?"

The red and blue mech just shrugged his massive shoulders, the expression on his face speaking volumes about how much he didn't want to talk about it. Like Ratchet, he looked torn between making a beeline for the door or sitting and listening to what questions Mikaela had to ask.

"I'm not trying to make this uncomfortable."

"Already have," Ratchet practically sang.

"….but I'm one of you now, right? So I guess I should start learning the basics."

On any other day, the countenance on Optimus and Ratchet's face plates would have made her laugh. But this time, she was serious, and who else to be serious with than the two most stern mech's known to man? Already, Ratchet was turning slowly, optic ridges raised.

"You _admit_ it?"

"Admit what?" Mikaela said, and then mentally slapped herself.

"That you're one of us. An Autobot, despite the insignia on your armor," Ratchet, brushing on finger across her shoulder, indicated towards the Decepticon insignia. It barely stood out against her silver armor, but if you looked closely, you could still see that one stain of evil.

"Me? A _con_? Pfft," Mikaela said passively, brushing Ratchets fingers away and hopping off the berth.

"While it_ is _unlikely, there are some aspects to your demeanor that express certain Decepticon-like behaviors," Optimus said from his corner. Before Mikaela could retaliate, he raised his hands, and Mikaela obeyed. Because when a Prime wanted to speak, you let him speak. He said solemnly, "I'm not accusing you of anything Mikaela, but do you ever suffer from sudden flashes of superiority?"

Yes. But she wasn't going to say that.

"Not really," she shuffled her feet nervously.

"I'm not trying to make you feel uncomfortable, Mikaela - " Optimus began.

"We just want to know," Ratchet cut in. His optics held so much sincerity that Mikaela wanted to spill and tell him everything. Her meeting with Starscream, her horrifying discovery that Barricade was alive and kicking, and above all else, her deal with Megatron.

She was inching closer and closer to the deadline, she realized.

Her optics swept the room, taking in every little detail, ever little fiber, until she found the data pad. It sat on one of Ratchet's many table, in a cluster of other medical tools.

The download tech was in there. All she had to do was grab it and….

"Mikaela?"

Mikaela jumped. Ratchet was snapping her fingers in front of her face, sounding more irritated than he looked.

"What? Oh, sorry, I must have…." She faltered, her eyes swooping back to the data pad and lingering for just a few seconds. "Sorry. I wasn't listening. What did you say?"

"I _said _that I hope you're adjusting well."

"I'm adjusting," Mikaela glanced at Optimus. "In fact, Prime and I were just about to go for a walk. Get to know each other better, right, Optimus?"

Optimus looked lost for words, and then, blinking and nodding his head, he said, "yes, that is correct."

It seemed that of all the things Optimus Prime was capable of, flight, fight, phenomenal speaking skills, everything like that, taking a hint wasn't one of them.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Mikaela. I did not mean for my words to make you uncomfortable."<p>

"Always starting with an apology," Mikaela sat against the shed with her legs spread out and her head resting against Prime's shoulder. He didn't seem bothered by the contact. In fact, it seemed as if he liked it. Longed for someone to be close to.

Mikaela did, too. But it wasn't Sam she was yearning for this time.

"I didn't mean - "

"Save it for Dr. Phil," Mikaela muttered, shutting her optics. "I already know."

"But….what I was inquiring about," he faltered for a moment, and then, after a long pause, said, "are you feeling…."

"….more and more like a Decepticon? Kind of. And yeah, before you say it, I know I've been complaining and whining about how much my life sucks for the past few months, and really, I'm over it," she shrugged. "I guess whining and complaining and hating life are what con's are known for."

"Maybe it's her."

"Maybe it's me," Mikaela said. "Maybe it's me, and her. She's in my mind still, you know? At the very edge of my mind, poking and probing in there. She wants control."

"And you won't let her take over," Optimus tilted her massive head. The femme leaning against him didn't seem all that bothered when he placed a hand on her thigh. "You're a strong femme."

"I don't feel strong."

"You are. Don't let anyone doubt you, Mikaela. Don't let what others say get into your head the way Roadrunner did."

Mikaela's optics flickered upward, and for a moment they remained fixated on his face. On its smooth curves and sharp edges that made him seem so regal, so powerful.

And so beautiful.

"Sam's got nothing on you, Prime," Mikaela murmured. "Can't believe I fell for him."

"Sam is a brave human. He's fought hard for the Autobots, for his planet. But like a majority of the members of his species, he fails to see the truth."

"Yeah."

"It's a shame that he left you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Mikaela said bitterly. "It was his decision, not mine. And it wouldn't have worked anyway," she gave a morbid laugh. "I mean, even when I was a human, we were so different. My life was shit. His wasn't. And I won't go into the details. I'm sure you don't want to hear the story, from dismal beginning to triumphant finish."

"Only if you want to."

"I don't. The past is irrelevant."

Her lips froze and she gave a small snort, hating how she sounded exactly like Megatron. The past was irrelevant, blah blah. It was his motto, practically, and it specifically applied to Mikaela and her bizarre circumstance.

He was almost like some kind of psychotic, guru, giving advice that would only fuck up the world even more. Of course, fucking up the world was the Decepticon's main goal, and she couldn't believe they wanted her to be a part of it.

"Never," she murmured.

"Hm?" Optimus' hand drifted from her thigh to waist, and Mikaela found herself snuggling into his warm embrace.

"Not meaning to ask personal questions…" Mikaela bit her lip plates and then said, "do you miss her? I mean, does it bother you that I'm…."

Her theory was back, like Roadrunners conscience, seeping from the back of her mind. Like some type of insane virus with no vaccine. Inexorable

"No. _Never_."

Lies. Of course, it bothered him. Why else would he be pressing his forehead against her, kissing her so softly that it felt like a breath of air tickling her lip plates as if her were kissing her former lover, one that looked so much like Mikaela that it _hurt_.

But then, as he pulled away, blue optics looking satisfied as he pulled her against him, Mikaela being the one to wrap her arms around him and sigh in content, she knew that _he wasn't lying._

Screw it. She'd contemplate over her theory _later_.

Maybe never.


	26. Call in the Expert

"Whoa, whoa, back it up!" Trina's hands were waving in the air as if she were trying to shoo away a bug, and Mikaela found herself laughing out loud for the first time in what seemed like months. "You saw Ratchet and Ironhide doing _what _now?"

"Clanking it up."

"Oh, God….the way you say it makes it even more wrong than it already is!" she draped the back of her hand over her eyes. "Oh, the horror!"

"It was only a glimpse. And, I mean, Ratchet admitted it later."

"Good for him."

Mikaela shrugged, her lips curving downward as she frowned and thought for a moment. Tapping her finger against her chin, she said, "you know, I didn't think Cybertronians's had those parts…."

"Ponder it, but don't speak it," Trina raised her hands, looking as if she were silently chanting for Mikaela to stop talking. "If I want a lesson, I'll go to_ school_."

"The school of Ratchet?"

"Oh, God," Trina moaned and covered her face with her hands. Mikaela laughed, her shoulders rising and falling with each beat. Trina eased down in front of her, sitting on the large mat where Mikaela, months ago, had stood, huffing and puffing as she tried to life weights that weighed a ton.

Now, the room was mostly bare. Trina had no use for it anymore, and a part of Mikaela wondered why she was even allowed to stay on the base anymore.

She didn't know. As long as Trina stayed right where she was, she didn't care. She was the last human friend Mikaela had left.

"Alright," Trina stared up at Mikaela with twinkling eyes. "So you and the boss are, like, an item?"

"I dunno."

"You _have_ to _know_!" she exclaimed. "It's the first step!"

"I don't bother with steps. I'm more of a….go with the flow kind of bot.'" Mikaela leaned back, lounging against the wall with her arms and legs crossed, staring down at the human in front of her.

"I've noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mikaela asked, leaning forward.

"I mean, you're different."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Trina rolled her eyes, shuffling so she could scoot forward a few inches. She stared up at Mikaela, mouth pulled into a tight line as she contemplated over what to say next. Finally, she gave up and slapped the palms of her hands against the mat, the noise echoing off the walls.

"You're independent," she said with a shrug. "I mean, you go off and do your own thing, which is good and all, but it gets you into situations you'd rather not be in. And it pisses you off."

"And you know this how…."

Trina tapped the side of her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I know these things. I have a way of getting into peoples heads."

"Yeah, that's not concerning."

"I don't mean to go all creepy on you, but I'm just stating the facts," Trina concluded. "No matter how shitty they may be."

"And shitty they are, Trina," Mikaela added. "But I get what you're saying."

They were silent for a moment. Then, Trina's shrill laugh broke the air, shattering the stillness around them.

"Look at me," Trina said. "I'm sitting here discussing my feeling with a human turned alien. No offense."

"None taken," Mikaela said. "You know, the first time I saw Bumblebee, I was thinking 'oh, my God, this monster is going to step on me,'" she paused. "And next thing you know, I have the little thing hooked to the back of a pickup truck, and I'm screaming at him to shoot and he's shooting…." She trailed off.

"Pretty weird, huh."

"What about you?"

It was Trina's turn to pause, fingers going to scratch the back of her neck. It occurred to Mikaela that her circumstance for meeting the Autobots was completely political.

She had done some research regarding the Garrison family before. It hadn't really started out as research, more like seeing Jude Garrison on the news, the paparazzi's newest fixation, running around and flaunting his newest suit. It had never once occurred to Mikaela to ask Trina for a last name. It had never crossed her mind that she might be talking to Jude Garrison's daughter, the heir to one of the largest fortunes in the world.

Even with her size, her superior strength and speed, Mikaela still felt small. Her she was, talking to a girl who, with her father's money and power, could have her shut down in less than a minute.

But here Trina Garrison was, talking to her with complete ease, no hint of a snooty, spoiled rich girl showing through her seemingly imperturbable demeanor.

"I barely got into college before deciding that it wasn't for me. My dad was furious. Said he would disown me if I didn't get a good job that made me – technically him, at the time – lots and lots of money," Trina began tracing patterns in the ground, her fingers moving different directions in unison with her words. "Not good. So I went back, got really interested in certain types of therapy and working with others, and it kind of took off from there."

"So you're a brainiac?"

"Let me finish!" Trina snapped, and then settled down. "N.E.S.T found me. Said they wanted me for something big."

"And I'm assuming that 'something big' was _me_?"

"_You_," Trina said. "It was a bogus project. Yeah, like alien robots exist. Like a human had been in an accident, her mind had been transplanted, and she was lying in a hospital, a gigantic metal heap that would wake up soon."

"Nice description."

"It's true!" Trina raised her voice. "I got to see you, asleep. You talked some, even, and moved, but you never woke up."

"I guess I was pretty boring to look at, huh?" Mikaela said.

"No. I had never seen the Autobots before. But I had heard stories about how you helped the aliens save the world."

Mikaela's gaze didn't leave the ground.

"And _Sam_. Oh, man, Sam was freaking out, Mikaela," Trina shook her head sadly. "He wouldn't stop…he was crying all the time. And Optimus, too."

"He cried?"

"He did the closest thing a Prime can do to crying. He sat in the corner with his head in his hands and stared at the wall. Didn't even want to move."

Mikaela felt her throat go dry, even though it wasn't moist. It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of sand down whatever type of esophagus Cybertronians's had, because she couldn't speak. Her tongue was made of molasses, and when she tried to make a noise, nothing came out.

Finally, she whispered, "the past is irrelevant."

Trina did not say a word.

* * *

><p>"You talked to her?"<p>

"I did."

Optimus didn't meet her gaze, but his fingers were curled around hers and his shoulder touched hers, almost causally. There wouldn't be any more touching tonight, Mikaela thought.

They had already done that. But it hadn't been a lot.

"Do you find her company enjoyable?"

"Meaning, do like her? Yeah."

"I supposed you two would have a lot in common," Optimus said, his hand tightening around hers. "She's cares for you, Mikaela. Do not forget that."

They walked down the empty halls and towards the vidroom, where Ratchet was, sure enough, waiting for them with a scowl on his face and in wrench in his hand. His back was turned to the couple as they entered, his eyes glued to one flashing screen on the wall.

Mikaela tried not to make a noise of disgust as Fisher's voice filled her ears, his honeyed words feeding his followers with lies as they listened eagerly, like obedient dogs, clawing at the side of the stage.

He was at the podium, standing proud with the Lincoln Memorial behind him. He had drawn quite the crowd of crazies, as he always did.

He was shouting into the microphone, at the crowd.

"We are so close, my friends!" he proclaimed. "So close the reaching our objective! So close to vanquishing these mechanical devils from the planet! _Our_ planet!"

"_Our planet!" _the crowd roared in unison.

Optimus and Mikaela stared.

"We're going to have to do something, Prime," Ratchet said, shaking his head. "This is getting out of control."

"It is out of hands whether or not the humans decide we should stay on their planet."

"Out of our hands? For Primus' sake, Optimus, we've been protecting this planet since 2007 - "

"We don't run this Earth, Ratchet," Optimus said, his eyes fixed on the screen. Beside him, Mikaela pressed herself against his arm, staring worriedly into his blue optics. "We never will."

"But the Decepticon's will, Prime," Mikaela said, stepping forward. Ratchet stared at her with what appeared to be pride. His chest puffed out and he stood taller, his usual grumpy demeanor abandoned. "If we leave, the humans die."

"I never suggested that leaving was an alternative," Optimus said. "The government really can't succumb to Fisher's temptations, can they? Even back on Cybertron, bribery got you nowhere."

Mikaela could see the worry mixed in with the anger. She glanced at Ratchet, who was staring worriedly in their leaders direction. He went back to the screens, and, like the good analyst he was, began to flip through different footage of Fisher proclaiming his hatred towards the bot's.

"They want us to either leave, or make sure we gain no rights," Mikaela said. "They don't trust us."

"I think we've established that," Ratchet grumbled.

"But _how_? What are they promising the legislature?" Optimus said softly.

"Fisher is riding this as far as he can," Mikaela said to him, and then glanced at Ratchet, honestly wanting some of his advice. "Right? His followers may be crazy, but he's not. He's good. He'll find something big enough, something important enough…." She faltered.

You didn't have to be a scientist to figure it out. Fisher had everything. The money, the political power, the intelligence. But he needed something to bribe with. Something N.E.S.T had denied the government long ago, when the Autobots had first been discovered.

Their weaponry was strictly off limits to human hands.

Apparently, Fisher was an exception.

"That's impossible," Optimus shook his head, and then looked at Ratchet as if expecting to get a different answer. "I never shared anything about our basic programming. Only the basics of our culture were revealed to the humans."

"Unless the Decepticon's are in on it."

"Someone give her a gold star," Ratchet said, barking a laugh. "It's not likely, but it's not impossible, either."

_Megatron would never do that_. Megatron despised Fisher, almost as much as Mikaela did. He would never be dumb enough to ally himself with a radical like Caine Fisher. Even Starscream would know better.

"We have to act, _soon_," Ratchet said, booting up more footage of Caine and his followers, his optics never leaving the screen. Optimus shifted beside Mikaela, leaving her and going over to Ratchet, but not before shooting her an apologetic glance.

"It's okay," she murmured. "Work, if you need to. I'll be waiting."

She left the vidroom with her arms crossed over her chest and his processors stuffed with thoughts. It wasn't a surprise that Fisher had gotten ahold of Cybertronian technology. It wasn't even a surprise that he was using it to bribe Congress. It was how he worked, apparently.

But where had he gotten it? Mikaela had already made a list of Decepticon, checking it twice and then double-checking to make sure.

The one mech not on her list, she realized, was the one mech she hated the most. Barricade was the only logical answer.

She stopped, her lips curling down into a frown.

She was going to investigate, she decided. Attend a rally, undercover. Look for Barricade, watch Fisher spew crap to people who were already full of crap, and maybe get a glimpse of her father while she was at it. But she wouldn't do it alone, and she already had one mech in mind who would be perfect for a task like this.

Starscream wouldn't be pleased.


	27. Out of Her Mind

"I can't believe you're doing this," Mikaela giggled as the Optimus fixed the last bit of scratches in her armor, painting over them with tact and precision. Mikaela sat with her back to her, her door wings twitching occasionally, but not enough to make him mess up.

Already, she was antsy and restless, eager to get on the road, even if Starscream hadn't returned her comm. Maybe he was busy, she had told herself. Maybe he had things to do and people to see, things that – if were ever to come into contact with Megatron's callous and terrorizing demeanor – would probably earn him his wings super glued to his aft.

The thought was funny and Mikaela found herself snickering.

"What's so funny?" Optimus asked, stopping his work to brush his cheek against Mikaela, the one simple contact sending jolts of electricity coursing down her frame. Mikaela shrugged her shoulders, toying with the grass.

"Just thinking of when Ratchet fell into those power lines."

Optimus was silent for a moment, and then, seeming to recall the events, laugh.

"Yes," he said, going back to work painting a long gash on her shoulder armor. "That was a sight. I did feel bad for laughing, though."

"We all felt bad. Well….not really, but inside we all felt bad," Mikaela chuckled. "I do remember that. Especially when you stepped on Sam's birdbath."

"Oh…" Optimus groaned.

"Or when Mojo pissed on Ironhide's foot."

Another groan, but Mikaela could tell that Optimus was trying not to laugh. He finally put down the brush and said, "Finished. You need to let it dry for just a moment."

"Yeah," she twisted her shoulders, stretching out limbs that had been forced to sit motionless for hours. She snuggled closer to Prime, feeling his hand on her thigh, the contact suddenly not a foreign as it had been just a few days ago.

She had gotten used to it. To the touching, the occasional kisses and the fact that they had tried to push themselves before, had tried to rekindle some old flame, but had never gotten far. As in, _that_ far.

"I hope this dries in time," Mikaela said. She looked at Optimus, making her eyes as wide and pleading as possible. "I was going to go out for a while. You know, stretch my tires…or…yeah, something like that."

"Out for a drive?" Optimus raised one fine optics ridge, and then tapped his chin with his finger. "Alone?"

Mikaela thought for a moment. It was highly likely that Starscream wouldn't return her message, which meant she would be going alone to a Brotherhood of man rally full of Cybertronian haters.

"I'll bring Trina, if she wants to go."

Even then, Mikaela didn't think Trina would comply. She had already been dragged through the streets with a rope tied around her ankle once, and Mikaela was pretty sure she wouldn't want to get near a Brotherhood rally ever again.

Oh well. It was worth the try.

"I suppose you two girls could have some bonding time," Optimus shrugged. "As long as you don't get into any trouble."

"You're the boss, boss," Mikaela scooted closer, and then closer, his strong arms sweeping her into his lap. His lips touched her cheeks hesitantly, and then he seemed to give in and nuzzle her throat.

It was like what she and Sam used to do. But better.

"You smell nice."

"Very romantic, Prime," Mikaela whispered against his audio receptors. "You have pretty eyes." He laughed, his chassis rising and falling, and Mikaela slid off his lap. "You have a nice laugh, too."

"So I've been told," he smiled. "And you…you're _gorgeous_. As always."

"Flatterer."

"You're intelligent. Very intelligent. And brave," he rested a hand against Mikaela's back. "As a soldier should be."

"I'm not a soldier, Optimus. She may have been….but me?" Mikaela scoffed. "I'm, like, a matchstick and you're…like…an atom bomb or whatever."

"That's not always a good thing."

"How? Being powerful seems like the perfect…." She trailed off, hating herself for even thinking about it. "Oh, yeah."

"Power corrupts and destroys," Optimus leaned his head back and looked up at the blue sky. "Many members of my race have learned that the hard way."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Optimus glanced at her, sadness flickering in her deep blue eyes. Mikaela found herself resting her head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth radiating off him, hot as the sun.

It always seemed as if the mood had been set and the time had been chosen for Mikaela to bring her up. She always hated herself for asking questions, always hated herself for bringing up the name as it she cooed it in her head, constantly begging her to do this and that. Mikaela was tempted to just go in there and yank that part of her mind out. Hand it over to Megatron personally.

_I will not let you take over._

_Just wait and see._

Roadrunner had disappeared for a while, but ever since Mikaela's meeting with Starscream, she had been back in Mikaela's head, whispering to her. Shutting her out was as easy as when she had managed to shut out Sam's final words, the words he said before he had left her.

_I can't do this, _he had said, and Mikaela could remember the hurt and anger and pain that had overcome her spark.

She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts, Roadrunners voice slinking back into Mikaela's subconscious. She went back to focusing in Optimus, tall, regal, beautiful Optimus who loved her for _her_.

"You were going to ask a question?"

"How did you know?"

"I know that look," Optimus said. "You always get that look when you're about to ask a question. Go on, ask."

"Who killed her?"

_Correction: who killed me._

Mikaela felt the urge to slam her head against the wall, the voice sneering in her head. Optimus gripped arm as Mikaela gritted her dental plates together, squeezing her optics shut.

"Damn….she's still in there…" Mikaela shook her head, noticing Optimus' worried expression and saying, reassuringly, "I have her under control. Don't worry about it."

Optimus seemed reluctant, but finally, he nodded.

"Who killed her…." He bit his lip plates. "Arcee."

Mikaela was motionless.

_Pompous little Autobot fragger!_

"Shut up…" Mikaela clenched her fist. "Before I _hurt_ you…."

She shook her head when hurt washed over Optimus' features, and she raised her hands in a placating gesture.

"Not you. _Her_."

"Ah," he nodded. "Do you need to see Ratchet?"

"No," Mikaela got to her feet, shaking her head the whole time. Partly for confirmation that, no, she wouldn't see Ratchet because he would make a bigger deal out of it than necessary, and to partly try and shake Roadrunner out of her head.

"I gotta go talk to Trina," Mikaela leaned down and kissed Optimus' cheek. "Thanks for painting my armor."

And then she was gone.

* * *

><p>"This is a dumb idea."<p>

"Yes. That's why we're doing it."

The Brotherhood gathered on Saturday, huge masses of humans usually rallying in front of the Capital or the National Mall or somewhere near Washington. But today, Fisher had a change of heart, and they were rallying at the Brotherhood HQ. News vans from almost every network crowded the parking lot, shielding Mikaela's alt mode from prying eyes.

Already, she had activated her holoform. Wearing sunglasses, a hat, and a sweatshirt, she had tried to make herself as unrecognizable as possible. Even if Fisher himself hadn't seen her human form, there was no doubt that at least a few of his followers had.

Trina was dressed the same, looking even more different that Mikaela. Her 'drag through Washington,' as Ironhide had dubbed it, had attracted a lot of unwanted attention.

"What if we get caught?"

"Then I deactivate my holoform, come in, and bust us both out," Mikaela nodded. "You really think Fisher is going to make a scene in front of all the news teams?"

"Um…Trina cocked on hip to the side, patting Mikaela's hood. "Yes. He's _Caine Fisher_. Attention is his oxygen. He needs it, or else he'll bloat and die."

Mikaela shrugged, and then lowered her voice, looking up for a brief moment. Starscream had denied her request for a chaperone, and now she was stuck with Trina. Not that she didn't like Trina, no, she loved Trina, but Starscream was a little more adventurous.

And a little better at using force when things got messy.

"What if they have energon detectors?"

"N.E.S.T are the only ones authorized to use energon detectors," Mikaela said. But, then again, if they had Barricade on their side….

She shook her head. If Barricade was even here, her sensors would be ringing off the charts. Roadrunner's internal programming had been designed to scope out fellow Decepticon signals automatically. Unless Barricade had suddenly decided to join the bot's, then there was no hiding from her.

"We're getting in, and then getting out, Trina," Mikaela hissed. "I swear. No nitpicking or piddling around. We just listen to Fisher spew shit, and then we leave."

"But it's the shit he's spewing that I'm most worried about," Trina grumbled. "He so much as _disses_ the Autobots, you're going to have to hold me back."

"Then you might as well stay here, Trina. Because dissing the Autobots is all he does."

Trina was silent. Then, her lips pulling into a thin line, she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head. Mikaela did the same.

"Let's do this."


	28. Exile

By the time they entered, Fisher had already taken the stage, his sickeningly handsome features magnified on the wide screen above his head. The crowd was wild, all pushing and trying to get closer to their "hero." It was a mob scene, it seemed, and beside Mikaela, Trina wasn't enjoying one bit of it. They moved forward, being jostled and thrown around by the crowd.

"Try to stay next to the exit," Mikaela whispered in Trina's ear. She nodded in agreement, and stayed close to Mikaela as they slunk to the side, hoods still on, to listen to Fisher speak.

"They don't understand," he was saying softly, his eyes sparkling, and even though she and Trina were in the back of the crowd, she could already feel as if he were watching her. But there was no way, she told herself. She tore her gaze away from the screen and looked at his tiny figure standing at the distant podium, knowing that there was no way he could scan the sea of bobbing heads and pick out her hooded figure.

"No!" the crowd shouted back.

"Those who stay at home, watching the reports, they think it's the same. That it's all some type of elaborate hoax. But is it?"

"No!" the crowd shouted back.

"Nutcase," Trina said out of the corner of her lips, but Mikaela could tell that even she was a bit antsy. Fisher's speaking skills could almost match Prime's and that, in itself, was a scary thought.

"No," he whispered into the microphone, seeming to go as calm as the crowd was crazy. "We meet here to decide out fate. _Their_ fate. You see, my friends, they believe that we are weak. They hide themselves among us, devils masquerading as machines and preying off our sorrows."

"We aren't weak!" the crowd chanted. "We aren't weak!"

Mikaela was already beginning to fret. The people beside them were shooting them glances, and hastily Mikaela shook Trina's arm and said in her ear, "chant."

Trina looked lost. Then, as the crowd began to cheer, she seemed to get the message and began jumping up and down, chanting the words of hate.

Mikaela did the same. The people beside them relaxed.

"I feel like such an idiot," Trina whispered. As Fisher continued to speak, and the crowd grew even more frenzied, they resulted to mouthing the words instead. Trina's barely passed as mouthing because she would barely move her lips.

"My friends, we can't just sit and _wait _for the inevitable. They will make a move at some point, and forever make us their slaves, imprisoning us in an inescapable hell. I'm begging the good people of the government to hear the pleas of the people and, for the sake of our children, exile the extraterrestrials and keep them off _our _soil."

The crowd went wild at this statement, shouting words of agreement, and as Mikaela watched each one of their faces, she realized that they really, genuinely hated the Autobots. It was written in a mixture of emotions, some sad, some angry, some a little bit crazed as if they themselves wanted to go and spit on Optimus Prime's metal shin. Despite the diverse demeanors, they all were trying to accomplish the same goal.

"Our children? We wouldn't have any children if it weren't for - "

Mikaela cut Trina off with a sharp glance, a feeling of dread hanging around her. She looked back up at the stage, at Fisher and into his dark, honey colored eyes. Again, it seemed as if he were looking directly at her, his gaze settling right on her and Trina both.

He smiled.

"For us to accomplish out goal, we need two things. Congress's approval and the _cooperation_ of the extraterrestrials."

"Bullshit," Trina scoffed. "Getting the Autobots to leave Earth is one thing, but do you think the _Decepticon's_ will listen to Fisher."

Mikaela had never believed in jinx's until now. As Fisher spoke, her eyes scanned the back of the stage, where a figure was hunched in the shadows. A very, very large figure. Mikaela's new eyes, as good as they were, couldn't even pick up the full shape of the thing, until Fisher made a motion with his hand and it stepped forward into the light.

"Holy…" Trina breathed. The crowd had even fell silent, debating whether or not to scream or cheer or boo.

"Barricade is the first to join the cause. The first of its kind to realize what's at stake," Fisher spoke, his hands braced on either side of the podium. Behind him, Barricade, shifting back and forth on one foot, probably ready to raze the humans to the ground because, once again, Fisher had used the term "it."

How had Mikaela not detected his signal? How had she not….

"Should we, um, get out of here," Trina did not take her eyes off Barricade.

"No. Wait."

Fisher said, "The Brotherhood is open to any alien who needs help. Help understanding what they are, that there is no place for them in this troubled world," he nodded back towards Barricade. "Together, we can eliminate the threat once and for all."

The crowd seemed lost. And then, a few languid claps that soon turned into all-out applause. People around them cheered, and Mikaela got a glimpse of Barricade's face turning downward in an irate frown, before going back to its original position: blank.

And then, his optics swept over the crowd before stopping on her.

"Now, we go," Mikaela said quickly. She pulled Trina through the crowd, shoving past protesters and out the back door, the whole time feeling as if Fisher's eyes were boring into the back of her head.

They burst outside, jogging towards Mikaela's alt mode, the noise of the rally residing to a dull thrum. Mikaela wrenched open the doors and slid inside the drivers seat, Trina beside her.

As soon as the doors slammed shut, both girls let out a breath.

"I have to admit," Trina said, "that was kind of scary."

"Scary? It was terrifying. That guy is like….like….some kind of radical," Mikaela shook her head. "Telling everyone 'oh, it's for the good of out children.' It's a bunch of shit."

Trina nodded in agreement and twisted to look back at the HQ. She said, biting her lip, "we'd better go before the rally ends. Or worse, before Barricade finds us."

Mikaela revved her engine, and, softly, so softly that Trina didn't so much as hear her, said, "I think he already has."

* * *

><p>That night, Mikaela lay on her berth, on her back with her optics blank, letting complete darkness surround her. She wasn't recharging, couldn't recharge because of the constant pinging in her head that alerted her off all the messages she hadn't checked, and didn't intent to check for a long, long time.<p>

Until the pinging got annoying as hell. Then, optics whirring to life, filling with color, she opened one up.

It was from Megatron.

**"You have three days."**

Mikaela sat up, well, more like jumped up, nearly rolling off her berth. She had lost track of time, she realized.

Had been so caught up in her own matters that she hadn't even bothered too….

Oh, God, her father was still sitting in the Brotherhoods clutches.

**"Worried, yet, femme?"**

Mikaela swatted at her ear, and then shook her head. Old habits die hard.

**"Why would I be worried?" **Mikaela commed back. Megatron didn't respond at first, and then, his voice was back, as if he were whispering right into her audio receptors.

**"You feel like a traitor," **Megatron said simply. **"Think about it for a moment, femme. What would Optimus do if he found out?"**

Mikaela didn't respond.

**"Exactly," **Megatron said. **"If I were you, I would get it over with before the guilt gets to your processors. If that hasn't happened already."**

**"It hasn't," **Mikaela snapped. **"And it won't."**

**"Are you sure?"**

**"You're the one who should feel guilty," **Mikaela shot back. She scooted against the wall, letting her legs dangle over the edge of her berth. **"Letting Barricade go join The Brotherhood like that."**

**"Pardon?"**

Mikaela tried to hide her laugh, but she couldn't. It came out in one, loud snort that she was sure Ratchet could hear.

**"He pulled a Starscream. Stabbed you in the back," **Mikaela waved her hands, and then realized that this wasn't a video chat. Megatron couldn't see what she was doing. **"Went off to get 'improved' by Fisher."**

**"So he's stealing my soldiers, now," **Megatron snarled. **"Femme, I need that download tech."**

**"See, that's the thing," **Mikaela hissed. **"What do you want it for?"**

Megatron was silent. It was the first time, Mikaela realized, that he didn't have anything to say. Not something common for the supreme leader of the Decepticons.

And then, in one, small, word, Megatron was able to sum up his whole plan.

**"Revenge."**


	29. Vengeance

"You were able to get it without being seen?"

Megatron lounged against a cluster of rocks, his talons drumming against their rough surfaces. Mikaela stood in front of him, data pad in hand, eyes trying not to linger on Megatron's form. It was nighttime outside, the moon shining brightly and casting an eerie glow on the trees, glinting off Megatron's armor.

She didn't answer at first. The guilt seemed to be choking her from the inside, squeezing and squeezing at her spark and making it impossible to form any words.

Give in or give up. She could run, transform down and take the information with her, give it back to Ratchet. Even in his own alternate form, Megatron wasn't as fast as Mikaela.

Or she could give it to him like a good little dog, hold her hand out and let his talons….

"Answer, femme!" he suddenly barked.

Mikaela gulped and said, "no. I was able to sneak into the med bay and get it. I even put the decoy in, like you told me."

"That Autobot medic is clever," Megatron tapped the side of his helm for emphasis. "He'll notice, soon enough."

Mikaela didn't reply.

"Enough time for you to come crawling back to me."

"I would never betray…" Mikaela trailed off, realizing the hypocrisy of her words. She had already betrayed the Autobots.

Roadrunner was in her ear, suddenly, hissing like a snake.

_Traitor. You'd be better off on your own._

Mikaela shook her head. Megatron gestured with his talon, one fine optic ridge raised. Mikaela stepped away, shielding the data pad and saying, "what do you want it for?"

"What?"

"You said that you wanted revenge," Mikaela let a small stream of air escape her lips. "What do you mean by that?"

"It's none of your concern, femme."

"It's _all_ of my concern," Mikaela snapped, shocked at her own courage. She hadn't been thinking of asking, hadn't been thinking of saying anything at all. Just take Megatron's advice and drop off the information before the guilt got to her.

It had already gotten to her, and it was too late to turn back. She just hoped that the more she found out, the more guilt would be lessened.

"You want to know?" Megatron snorted. "Bothersome little femme. Not knowing when to shut your lip plates will get you in a lot of trouble."

"Whatever. Just tell me."

"You despise the Brotherhood. I despise the Brotherhood," Megatron leaned forward. "A good match, don't you think?"

Mikaela tilted her head to the side. "Yeah," she said hesitantly. "But I don't see how–"

"Hush, femme, and listen," with one talon, Megatron patted the grass next to him.

Reluctantly, Mikaela came over and sat, keeping the data pad away from Megatron. He turned his body to stare down at her, a nasty smile toying at the corners of his lips. Mikaela could feel his optics roaming over her frame, a feeling of insecurity suddenly becoming much more prominent.

"Fisher is far more dangerous than we could ever imagine," Megatron continued. "Stealing our weaponry, stealing my soldiers from right out from under me…."

"Whose fault is that?" Mikaela murmured.

"Barricade disappeared _before_ the Mission City battle. _Before_ your puny little human mate shoved the Allspark into my chassis," Megatron's hand crept up to his spark, lingering their for a moment before dropping back down to his side. "The insufferable little fool _abandoned _the Decepticons and is hiding behind the Brotherhood, sucking away at their resources like a leech."

"With good reason."

Megatron didn't lash out, didn't reply to her accusation. His optics flickered down for a moment before he leaned back and sighed.

"For a wrong reason. He and Fisher have made an enemy of the Autobots and Decepticon's alike, both crimes punishable by death."

"Then kill him!" Mikaela exclaimed. "Nothing is stopping you."

"Barricade dead makes no difference. It will not faze me. But Fisher? Pah! The little fleshbag will suffer far worse than Barricade," Megatron jerked his chin towards the data pad under Mikaela leg. "The download tech will be his downfall."

"What…." Mikaela began.

"I plan on turning him into the one thing he despises most," Megatron raised a talon. "With a few modifications, of course. Turn him into the very monster he pictures us to be."

"_You_ are."

"I'm just doing what has to be done," Megatron replied bitterly. Then, softly, "we all are."

"So you want to turn him into one of us? And worse, you said?"

"We have _several_ defective protoform's that we have yet to put to good use."

"Lovely," Mikaela murmured.

"I'm simply using _his_ beliefs against him. The way he separates the two species – humans and Cybertronians's – does not deter me from any of my task. They are words uttered from the mouth of a tiny, insignificant little ball of flesh, and therefore they are inconsequential."

"If their so inconsequential, then how come you're listening to them?" Mikaela challenged, gripping the data pad tightly. "How come they've triggered some emotional response from you?"

"It isn't his words. It's his actions," Megatron braced his hand on either side of Mikaela and leaned down, blowing hot puffs of air against her cheek. Like Optimus, his warmth seemed to swallow her whole. She found her joints relaxing, the tension having been eased by a simple gesture from a creature who, most definitely, wasn't capable of feeling love at all.

"Barricade joined them at his own will. To hide from you, it seemed," Mikaela said. "They protected him, and got some fancy new tech."

Megatron pulled away, and Mikaela was a little disappointed at the distance. His talons went to stroke her back, in between her door wings, sending little jolts of pleasure down her frame.

"We have yet to capture the human, and I need your cooperation for this to work."

"Why me?"

Mikaela already knew the answer. In no form would capturing Fisher go unnoticed, and when it came to a battle, Megatron and Starscream had it covered. No doubt the Autobots would be sent in, no doubt _Optimus_ would be sent in, and no doubt Optimus wouldn't hurt Mikaela.

Even if she had Caine Fisher writhing around and screaming in her hand, under no circumstance would Optimus fire a shot or attack her.

Megatron was going to use Optimus' past attractions against him, and Mikaela was his weapon of choice.

"What if I don't want to take part in this?"

"You will," Megatron smirked, and reached for the data pad.

Mikaela jerked it away, scrambling across the grass, away from Megatron's prying talons. She said, "I thought that there was no trust in this agreement," she bared her teeth. "You said it yourself."

"I was bluffing."

"No, you weren't," Mikaela snapped. "You don't bluff."

"You know me all to well. Has Roadrunner been informing you of our past encounters?"

Mikaela didn't know whether to shake her head, or nod. True, she had seen some of the Decepticon's memories, processor-scarring images of Roadrunner and Megatron doing things Mikaela would have never thought Cybertronians capable of doing, but never once had those memories portrayed Megatron as trustworthy.

So, instead, she asked the con' herself.

_What do you think?_

_He does not go back on his word._

Slowly Mikaela held up the data pad.

"And my father?" she said testily. "You'll get him back to me safely?"

"He'll get to you," Megatron nodded. "We have to make it look like nothing_ peculiar_ happened, don't we?"

"I suppose."

"Good femme," in one swift motion, he had taken the data pad and tucked it under his armor, going back to lean against the rocks.

Mikaela got to her feet, watching the mech as he seemed to go rigid. His armor was so scratched and dirty and dulled, covered in so much dirt and swirling, tattoos that, in the darkness, he seemed to blend in with the rocks.

"You need a wash," Mikaela murmured.

"Be my guest," he replied, and Mikaela jumped. She hadn't thought he had been listening, at the seductive undertone in his words caused a shiver to run down her frame.

Roadrunners memories flashed in her mind again, these far less pleasant. She could practically feel her lust seeping through, and Mikaela had to shove the thoughts into the very back of her processors.

"Me and you?" she scoffed back at Megatron, who was still lounging against the rocks. "In your dreams."

And then she transformed, tires squealing through dirt, hurtling away at speeds not even a rocket could match.


	30. Family Reunion

Mikaela stayed inside the base for the next four days, waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Who was to say that Megatron was lying? Who was to say that, this whole time, he had been sitting back and lying the entire time, the motion of rescuing her father not even at the bottom of his list?

No one. Therefore, that was why Mikaela had to wait with, metaphorically, since Cybertronians's didn't really breathe, baited breath.

Four days.

On the fourth day, while she was trudging down the base, her shoulder plates having eased into a permanent hunch, her audio receptors picked up a commotion coming from the base's front gates. Following the sound, Mikaela crept along the walls, towards the main entrance, where she saw a cluster of guards trying to restrain a dirty, raggedy-looking human who was shouting out obscenities.

Mikaela recognized the voice. If she had been human, still, her stomach would have been doing flips.

"Dad?" she breathed.

Megatron had pulled through after all. The murderously insane Decepticon had actually pulled through with the deal.

Mikaela stepped out of the shadows, and immediately, the guards eased back, all eyes on her tall frame. It was a gesture displayed around all the Autobots. Mikaela had seen many times, but never from _this_ point of view.

"What seems to be the problem?"

The man looked up, wrenching out of the guards grasp. His clothes were torn, his hair filthy and matted, but there was no mistaking those lips, that hair and nose and eyes….

"Mikaela?"

"Long time, no see," Mikaela tried to hide her delight, but a small smile was beginning to tug at the corners of her lip plates. Her father recognized her, and that was enough. "I see you've escaped?"

"I did more than escape," her father replied, brushing dirt off his shoulder. "Fisher had a change of heart. Let me go."

Mikaela's eyes narrowed for a moment, and Megatron's words came back to her.

_We have to make it look like nothing peculiar happened, don't we?_

Her father didn't know. He knew nothing of his rescuers, or the lengths Mikaela had to go in order to set him free. Mikaela didn't know what Megatron had done to him, didn't want to know, and probably never would know.

But he was alive, and ignorance was just a small price to pay.

The first guard glanced up at Mikaela, his lips pulling into a tight line. He said, "Does boss know about this?"

"Optimus?" Mikaela shook her head, and knelt down, meeting her father's eye. He was breathing heavily, but didn't seem the least bit intimidated. She said, "I'll escort him in."

The guard nodded, and did not say another word.

* * *

><p>"Fisher had you in custody for how long?"<p>

Mikaela watched as her father regarded Optimus with a look of respect, and a little bit of envy. He sat in a small, rotating chair in front of a table, Optimus and Mikaela towering over him with ease.

"About five weeks," he scratched the back of his head. "Not as long as it could have been. I got out, though."

Optimus nodded, but Mikaela saw a skeptical glimmer in her deep, blue optics. Looking down at her father, and then back up at Mikaela, he said, "And I believe, David, that your daughter has explained everything to you? Her circumstances, as well as mine?"

A small sigh, and then a small, "yes."

Optimus glanced at Mikaela.

**"How did he take it?"**

**"Well," **Mikaela replied with a shrug. **"Though I think I could've explained the whole 'Cybertronian anomaly' thing better. He was pissed that he wouldn't be getting any grandchildren."**

Optimus snorted, and Fisher looked up.

"Mr. Prime….sir," Mikaela's father began cautiously, shifting in his seat, craning him neck to look at the behemoth in front of him. "What do you want with my daughter?"

"She is as valuable to the Autobots as she is to you, Mr. Banes," Optimus crouched down, joints clicking. "I assure you that she is in the best care."

"Say's you," he snorted.

"What do you want to do with me, dad?" Mikaela spread her arms out wide. "Fix me? You tried that, and look what happened."

Her father opened his mouth, and then seemed to deflate like a balloon, sinking back into his chair. Quietly, ever so quietly, he said, "I just want things to go back to the way they were. You can understand that, right?"

Optimus glanced back at Mikaela, and stood up. "I should give you two some time alone."

And then, he was gone.

The awkward silence was so thick that Mikaela could have cut it with a knife. Her father sat in the chair, still, with his arms crossed and his head directed at the ground. Not once did he make a move to look up.

Mikaela broke the silence by saying, "so, Dad….how have you been?"

"How do you think?" Finally, he looked up, green eyes twinkling with too many emotions for Mikaela to count. "Find out my daughter has been turned into….into….a machine, and not be able to do anything about it."

Mikaela didn't reply.

"Sucks," her father concluded with a shrug. "The whole thing."

"Well, you certainly put on an effort to try and get me back to normal," Mikaela said acidly.

"It was an effort true to my heart," her father replied.

"And how did that work out for you, huh?" Mikaela exploded, stepping forward, each step causing her fathers chair to quiver. "Listen to me, dad, for the last time, there's nothing you can do to fix me."

"There has to be a way…."

"There's not," Mikaela knelt down on one knee, bracing her hands on either side of her fathers chair. Face just a foot from his, she said, "I'm sorry."

"Do you like being like…." Her father gestured at her metal body. _"One of them?"_

"It was better than the alternative."

"Which was?"

"_Death,"_ Mikaela gritted her dental plates together. "Not even Ratchet would have been able to fix me."

"He could have tried."

"You think he didn't?" Mikaela said incredulously. "You think that I wanted this?"

Her father shook his head, leaning back in his chair, a languid sigh escaping his lips. "No. I think that _they _wanted this. Enslave the human race, that's their goal, right?"

"Wrong campaign, Dad," Mikaela said, easing up a bit to give her father some space. She could detect his elevated heart rate, could see the sweat glinting on his brow due to the nerves. She felt a pang of hurt in her spark, the fact that her father, her own father, was somewhat afraid of her.

"Fisher said something different."

"Well, Fisher is a jackass," Mikaela said. "You're going to take his word over mine?"

That got him for a second. He scratched his arms, and then smoothed back his dark hair. "Don't forget, you haven't been entirely truthful with me, either."

"Did_ I_ lock you up in jail?" Mikaela challenge, and then, her optics softened. Door wings twitching, she said to her father, "Look, dad, I think we can both admit that….I'm not changing. And you can either accept that….or not."

"You're my daughter."

"I know."

"You know that this is hard for me."

"I understand. But there's nothing me, or Optimus, or Ratchet can do about it."

He didn't reply. Just shifted nervously in his seat as Mikaela knelt down, fingers reaching out to touch him.

He flinched back reflectively.

"I won't hurt you."

"I didn't think you would."

"The come here," Mikaela made a gesture with her fingers. "Optimus should be waiting outside."

"I don't want to see him right now."

He was trying to avoid touching her. Mikaela felt as if someone had plunged a knife right into her spark, the pain tearing away at her very insides.

"You're going to have to. Just step onto my palm, and hold onto my thumb. I won't drop you. I swear."

Reluctantly, her father stood from his chair and took a tentative step onto Mikaela open palm. Knees wobbling, banging together, he finally fell and gripped her thumb.

Mikaela lifted his up and held him in front of her, seeing his wide eyes as he took in her new face. She said, "not so bad, is it?"

"Not so bad."

He was lying. But Mikaela didn't care, as long as he was safe and with her.

She wondered what Megatron would think of her now.


	31. Hands Down

"So that's what your dad looks like," Trina whispered, peering around the corner and into the room rec room, where her father was sitting, alone, lost in his own thoughts. Trina cocked her head to the side, and then nodded. "I can see the comparison."

Mikaela snorted. It was almost comical, really, both species in the exact same pose, Mikaela towering over Trina with ease. She had come to the point where she was able to control her steps, making her steps lights so she wouldn't attract attention.

She didn't know whether or not it was her, or Roadrunner. Or a combination of both. Her annoying mindmate had been awfully silent, and Mikaela was surprised, having expected her to burst in on she and her fathers reunion.

Mikaela turned away, leaning against the wall. It was dark outside, the hallways relatively empty, the lights flickering overhead casting an eerie glow on everything around them. She didn't know how long her father had been in there, still trying to soak everything in. But she knew that it had been long enough for both she and Trina to come to the conclusion that, yes, something was wrong.

"Should I talk to him?" Mikaela whispered down to Trina. The human adjusted her dark hair, which she had languidly pulled into a bun earlier.

"Do you want the friend answer, or the smart answer."

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes. The smart answer is, 'dear God, no, it will only make you look stupid. The friend answer is, 'yeah, sure. If it makes you feel better."

"Thanks," Mikaela said sarcastically.

"Hey, I ain't one of those Brotherhood freaks," Trina winked. "I care. And I won't leave you hanging."

Mikaela didn't express it, didn't know if she could, but the words hit her like a punch.

_Sam. _She didn't know why his face was forming in her processors, his dark hair and deep, unreadable eyes. He had probably found some others girl, someone else's life to wreck. Not that it was his fault, not that it could ever be his fault, but Mikaela found some comfort in telling herself that it _was_ him.

Mikaela probably should have seen it coming. She didn't get mad that Trina had been hanging around him, hanging on him, practically. The first sign that she didn't care for him, didn't care _about _him. Maybe it was her programming not to feel attracted to humans, or maybe it was just her own mind trying to convince her that Sam wouldn't accept her for who she was.

A machine. Or something like a machine, since machines weren't capable of feeling love or raw desire, hate or anger or envy of self-loathing, like she had felt many, many times before.

"Speaking of Brotherhood freaks," Mikaela let out a breath of air, the gesture still left over from when she was human. She didn't think it would ever go away, and she didn't care as long as she had something to hold onto. "I say we go back by and pay ole' Fisher a visit."

Trina looked up. Stared, big eyes unreadable.

Finally, "are you drunk?"

Mikaela rolled her eyes. "C'mon! We're scoping out the enemy here, observing their _habits_."

"You sound like you're talking about observing chimpanzees or something. What, are you trying to convert?" Trina's eyes widened at the thought. "_Please_, don't tell me that you want to join Fishers hate club."

"In his nightmares," Mikaela scoffed. "So, that's a no, I guess?"

"I mean, you can go alone….I'm not tagging along to that freak circus."

"Thanks for the support."

"Don't mention it, buddy," Trina peered around the corner once more. "So, which one will it be?"

"Pardon?"

"You never answered. Smart, or friend? You know, to speak to your dad."

Mikaela thought for a moment, observing her fathers hunched figure.

"The smart answer."

"I like how you think, Banes. I like how you think."

* * *

><p>She met Optimus in his quarters just as he was running her fingers over the dreamer that Starscream had given Mikaela, face etched with worry.<p>

"Put that down," Mikaela barked.

He didn't obey, but instead let his arms drop to his side. He said, "how is your father?"

"The usual."

Mikaela didn't want to say anything else. Didn't have to, since Optimus seemed to perceive the glint in her optic.

"You didn't speak with him, did you?" Optimus frowned and finally, giving into Mikaela's angry glares, set the dreamer back under his berth. "He's quite….disturbed about this whole thing. As his daughter, I would have thought that you would have–"

"He's not your father," Mikaela said, a little too harshly for her own liking.

Optimus didn't recoil back, or even flinch. Something he was a master at evading. He said, softly, "my apologies. It wasn't my place."

"_Your _place is leading the Autobots. And staying right here, with me," Mikaela sauntered over to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He returned the gesture immediately, sending off sparks between their two frames.

"And what did you mean by 'disturbed'?" Mikaela rumbled against his chest.

"I was just implying that…." Optimus shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

Mikaela snorted, letting go and stepping back. She went over and sat down on his own berth, kicking her long, slender legs back and forth. She said, "so, what's troubling you?"

"Pardon?"

"C'mon. Everyone's noticed that you've lost that spring in your step that you always seem to have."

"Galloway. Government officials. Feeble matters, really, but rest assure I will get them sorted out," Optimus had his back turned to Mikaela and was flipping through a data pad. He said, "and a few of Ratchet's supplies have gone missing."

If Mikaela had a breath, she was sure it would have caught in the back of her throat.

"But, no matter. Ratchet misplaces things quite often. He will find it, eventually."

"Not something you should berate yourself with," Mikaela patted the berth, the noise echoing off the walls. "Now, why don't you come over here, and I'll massage those stressed joints of yours."

Optimus' head turned very, very slowly.

Mikaela spread her arms out wide. "Hey, you earned it, big guy."

Optimus set down the data pad, rolling his massive shoulder, coming to sit down on the ground in front of Mikaela. Mikaela, sitting on the berth and dwarfing over him with ease, began to press her fingers into the seams of his shoulder armor.

He let out a slight hiss.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," she murmured. "If I hit something wrong, _please_ don't go all ninja on me."

"I won't. And _you_ won't," Optimus tilted his head upward, a smile playing at the corners of his lip plates. "Hasn't Ratchet already taught you the basics of Cybertronian anomaly? You should already know our most sensitive parts."

"Oh, I um…" Mikaela used her free hand to scratch the back of her helm, a pretty feeble attempt at hiding her guilt since Cybertronians's didn't technically itch. "I had to skip that part because Trina asked me to go bowling with her."

"If I may point out something," Optimus groaned as Mikaela put pressure on one of the strained wires under his armor, a pleasurable sound that had Mikaela's insides squirming. "At the time, you had no control of your holoform."

"Did I say bowling? I mean parasailing."

"Uh-huh," Optimus nodded, but Mikaela knew he wasn't convinced.

"I didn't pay attention, okay!" Mikaela threw up her hand, and Optimus chuckled. "I'm a bad student, alright!"

Optimus rolled his shoulders again, and Mikaela went back to massaging. A silence stretched between them, Optimus occasionally making sounds when Mikaela hit somewhere he liked, and Mikaela getting even more aroused by every sound he made.

Finally, he stood. "I think that's enough."

Mikaela could only nod, her cooling fans having switched on, desperately trying to cool her heating core. Optimus noticed and raised an optic ridge.

"Are you alright, Mikaela?"

"Great."

Optimus slid beside her, hand on her arm. He said, free of any preamble, "we don't have to if you don't want to."

_Oh, I want to._

Mikaela didn't know if it was Roadrunner speaking, or her own mind. Either way, she was already leaning in and pressing her lips against his.

She had promised – they had both promised – that they wouldn't push each other. They wouldn't push there bodies, either.

Too late.

Optimus was on her, but not forceful, not tearing her open like all the others she used to have, tearing her open to reveal everything inside. He was warm, his lips were warm, and his arms were strong and they seemed to hold her up.

And she wasn't alone.


	32. The Worst kind of  Rhyme

_"Oh, Roadrunner, dear! Isn't this just lovely! So, so extremely lovely!"_

_Roadrunner sat with her back against the wall, watching her father twist together various nuts and bolts, his hands flying over his work so fast that Roadrunner optics could barely keep up._

_There had been an idea nagging at her father mind for centuries, now. _

_Centuries of studying and analyzing various species collected from all over the galaxy and studying how their processors worked. Some were organic, some were a strange, abnormal mixture between organic and inorganic. _

_Those were the ones that always scared Roadrunner. Even as a youngling, she had always dreaded going to her fathers lab, no matter what the cost._

_Who cared that she barely ever saw him any more. Who cared that he lived in his lab, wallowing in the stench of decaying organic material, slicing up brains, freezing them and heating them. He lived for his work._

_He did not live for Roadrunner._

_"You're onto something?" She murmured._

_"More than onto something," her father spun, and, hanging from his hand was the head of a slain Autobot, still sparking and twitching as if it were still alive. "You've heard of what the humans call a cerebral cortex, right, my dear?"_

_"The species disgust me."_

_"Then my work must disgust you, also," her father crouched down to where she was hunched over in a corner, head still dangling from his hand. But now, it was rocking back and forth and Roadrunner thought of warning her father but she had been robbed of the words._

_"The human cerebral cortex is a strange thing, Runner," her father breathed. "Tap into it, and you can have them spilling all their secrets. The more we know about them, closer we are to making them like us!"_

_"Your studies will be the end of you, father," Roadrunner snarled. "Megatron will have your head before the day is done!"_

_Roadrunner instantly regretted her words._

_"Head?" the Autobot head dangling in her father hand was speaking now, its worn, disgusting lip plates and single optic coming online. It began to cackle like a hyena._

_"Head? Did someone say head!"_

_Roadrunner screamed. Her father didn't seem to care, he only cared about his work, and right now, his work was trying to figure out a way to make his daughter, his precious little Roadrunner squirm._

_"I've given you everything you've ever wanted," her father growled. "And yet you reject my work?"_

_"Your work is nothing but vulgarity! How in the name of Primus are you going to find a way to transform the human brain into Cybertronian processors?"_

_"Not transform, Runner, transport," her father breathed. "You'll understand, in all due time."_

_Roadrunner ran. She shoved past her father, knocking over table and throwing herself out into the hallway, tripping over her own to pedes._

Mikaela knew that it was her mindmate projecting the images into her head, like some sort of dream.

Like some sort of sick nightmare.

_Roadrunner could still hear the head cackling, singing, it seemed, at a pitch high enough to shatter glass._

"Mikaela!" Optimus was shouting, shaking her.

_"Ringaround the rosey"_

_"A pocket full of posey"_

"Mikaela! Mikaela, please, wake up!"

_"Ashes, ashes."_

Mikaela awoke just as the last lines faded from her mind, disappearing as quickly as they had come.

_"We all fall down."_

* * *

><p>Mikaela was motionless, Optimus laying on the berth beside her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his head buried in her shoulder.<p>

No one talked. Mikaela was too scared to close her optic in fear that Roadrunner would project more memories into her head.

"Mikaela?" Optimus whispered, his lip plates grazing her audio receptors.

"Yes?"

"Are you alright?"

"It's getting worse," she breathed. "And….I don't know how to stop it."

"And I fear Ratchet will be of no use in this certain department," Optimus cycled his vents and nuzzled Mikaela's neck. "This internal battle will be your own, Mikaela. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It isn't your…." Mikaela trailed off, biting her lip plates before finishing with, "your fault."

"Don't hesitate."

"I'm trying not to say it," Mikaela wriggled around, turning so she was facing the mech. Noses touching slightly, Mikaela whispered, "I'm trying not to say what's not true."

"I was the one who ordered Ratchet to commence the transplant," Optimus said ruefully. "If I would have known the effects….I…." he shook his head, lost. "I just don't know, Mikaela. I just don't know what else I could have done."

"You did what you thought was right."

"But did I do what I thought was best for _you_?"

Mikaela ran her fingers across his lip plates, feeling them quiver slightly. She just wished she could somehow get into his processors and see just what he was thinking of the moment.

Was he seeing Mikaela as _Mikaela_, or seeing her as Roadrunner, back from the dead, duped into thinking she was someone else?

And, above all else, had he brought her back to life just for the purpose of seeing, kissing, touching his dead mate? It had been her theory from the start, a skeptical one, one that she hadn't thought about when she had been dipping her fingers under the grooves of his armor, surrendering herself to _him_.

She just didn't know.

"Do you –"

"Yes," Optimus barely waited for her to get the words out, and as if reading her mind, he said, "yes. I do love you."

"And you love me….for _me_?"

"What exactly are you implying?"

Mikaela gulped, steeled herself, unsure of how to approach the matter. She said, "I can never replace _her_. You know that."

Optimus' face was blank.

"But I can try to be just as caring and…." Mikaela fumbled over the words, images from Roadrunners dismal past coming to her. "_Loving_. She loved you, Optimus."

"As I look back, I'm finding that harder and harder to believe," Optimus hand found the back of Mikaela neck. "We've both been through rejection and pain and the torment of watching your loved ones turn their back on the world."

_Sam. _Mikaela didn't need to ask to know who he was talking about.

"I understand. But you still haven't answered…."

"I love you, Mikaela. I love _you._"

And Mikaela knew that those words would stay with her for the rest of her long, long life.

* * *

><p>"You're late, Mikaela," Ratchet shot her a dirty look, and, feet dangling off the edge of the medical berth, Trina gave a low whistle. Ratchet ignored her and said, "I could hear you two from in here."<p>

"I could say the same thing."

The way Ratchet's lip plates twitched was enough to make Mikaela laugh out loud, her voice echoing around the walls.

"Ohhhh," Trina said. "You just got _owned,_ Doc Bot."

"So, what do you need me for?" Mikaela hoisted herself up beside Trina, scooting to the side to give the human some room. Trina was adjusting the straps of her tank top, messing with her hair and trying to act _so oblivious._

"What's up?" Mikaela said slowly, nudging Trina with her finger. Trina gave a small giggle and batted Mikaela's hand away playfully. "What is it?"

"Ironhide and I have been thinking," Ratchet began, turning to face Mikaela. "You've shown quite a deal of expertise when it comes to dealing with Decepticons, both in your human years, and now."

"I don't like where this is going," Mikaela said, glancing down at Trina.

"Just wait," Trina held up a finger.

"You're familiar in the art of weaponry, correct?"

"You mean….whoa, you're going to give me a weapon?" Mikaela exclaimed. "Like, Ironhide's cannons?"

"I suggested we start you off with something a little more low key," Trina called up. "Something that you won't accidently shoot yourself in the foot with."

"Hey, I've had more experience with guns than you, Garrison," Mikaela said. "Like the time I um….well….that wasn't really a gun, it was a power saw…"

"Spare me the stories, Kayla'," Trina said. "Hide' and Doc Bot have been thinking this through, long and hard. You're ready."

"Are you serious?"

Ratchet was already holding up a welder, smiling like some demented doctor out of a science fiction movie.

"Serious," he said.

It took Mikaela an hour and twenty minutes, after much cursing, fire, and yelling to figure out the irony.

Her life, indeed, was a science fiction movie.


	33. Fallout

"Adjust your stance a bit, Mikaela," Ironhide pressed his hands against her shoulder, forcing her downward so her knees were bent and she was eased back, like a fighter in a ring.

"How does that feel?"

"Better."

"Can you shoot?" Ironhide closed one optic, standing so close to her that she could feel the heat radiating off his frame. They were in the old target room – the same one she and Trina had used to go about their daily psychiatric sessions. It was the most familiar room in the entire base besides the medical bay and Optimus' private quarters – a place she had been spending vast amounts of time in – and she partly credited that fact to her success. Ironhide was a tough teacher at normal, and Mikaela assumed he was easing back a bit due to the fact that Optimus was sitting in the corner, Trina beside him, watching.

Her father had joined them, too, but he was keeping as far away from Optimus as possible, pressed up against the wall and shooting Mikaela sullen looks every once and awhile.

"Of course I can shoot," Mikaela answered, once she had found the energy to speak. The targets on the wall seemed farther away than they actually were, and she felt herself swallow, trying to wet the back of her throat. Of course, it was a lost cause.

"Then shoot."

"I will if you stop pestering me. I have to concentrate."

"If I were a Decepticon," Ironhide swung around and shoved her gun to the side, out of his face. "Would I be showing you any mercy right now? Would I be giving you the time to concentrate?"

"No," Mikaela mumbled.

"I'm glad we're on the same page," Ironhide said gruffly. "Now, shoot."

Mikaela obeyed. The blast sent her stumbling back, her shot flying wide and hitting the wall beside the target, burning a hole in the brick larger than a dinner plate.

"You almost had it!" Trina called, smirking ever so slightly.

"Almost? As in, like, what? Ten feet?" Mikaela squinted to analyze the smoking crater in the wall. She turned to Trina and said, "Yep. Ten feet."

"Ten feet too many," Ironhide rounded on her, expression agitated. He glanced at Prime for guidance, and his leader just shook his head. Mikaela felt a wave of shame wash over her, and she turned away, embarrassed.

"At least I tried."

"Your stance was wrong," Ironhide sighed and shook his head. "You should be lower. Foot back, eyes trained directly on the target."

"Hey," Trina called, and two pairs of optics swiveled to look at the human's small frame leaning against Optimus' leg. "In an actual fight, the target is going to be twenty feet of metal and steel. This is just practice."

Trina delivered the words that Ironhide could never say, and Mikaela found herself nodding in agreement. Ironhide just snorted, and Mikaela could tell that his pride had been stepped on, just a little.

"You make it sound like you're preparing me to fight Megatron," Mikaela said with a surly laugh. "He's the only one whose twenty feet tall."

"He wouldn't be the first," Optimus murmured.

"Yeah, well….you're good," Mikaela sauntered over to his hunched frame and patted his knee lightly. Then, quickly, she kissed his cheek. "Way, way to good."

"Aww…." Trina cooed.

To the side, Ironhide shifted uncomfortably before regaining his gruff composure and rolling his optics. "I swear to Primus, femme, you're going to be the end of me."

Mikaela smiled.

* * *

><p>"That was frightening."<p>

Mikaela looked down at her father, seeing him smoothing back his brown hair. His eyes were sunken and he looked even more tired than ever. But, unlike the others, who had all retreated to their rooms, he had stayed behind as Mikaela finished the last round of targets. Alone.

"How so?"

"I never imagined my daughter would result to carrying a gun."

"Hey," Mikaela stepped back, joints creaking. "In this world, things are different. Just be glad you weren't around when I _couldn't _defend myself."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Like what's a bad thing?"

"Not being able carry a ten-ton gun. Not being able to transform down into a…machine. A car," her father waved a hand dismissively. "It's as if you enjoy being like this."

Mikaela threw back her head and barked a laugh, blaster abandoned, and her full attention on the small human standing behind her. He had lost his daunted, nervous expression that, at first, Mikaela was led to believe that it had all been some sort of act. Her father was quite good at subterfuge, something that had gotten him arrested more than one time.

"I thought you were over_ this_," Mikaela gestured to her body. "I sure am. So _that _should make it easier for _you_."

"Easier for me? I'm your father, for God's sake! I've–"

"Watched over me for all these years?" Mikaela scoffed and knelt down, arms braced on either side of her father. Teeth bared, optics flashing, she said, "where were you when I was fighting alongside Sam Witwicky in the Mission City battle? Huh? Where were you when I watched that same boy _die _back in Egypt?"

"You're exaggerating things."

Mikaela slammed her fist down, the impact knocking her father off his feet. Eyes wild, sweat running down his brow, he scrambled back.

"Where were you when I needed someone other than Sam to hug me when I cried, to talk to me and tell me how much they…." Mikaela choked on the next word, biting her lip plates to keep from speaking. Finally, steeling herself and slacking a little, she said, "You get my point."

"I get it loud and clear."

"Then learn it, and take it to your grave," Mikaela sat back on her rear, her father getting to his feet, brushing off his clothing. "And, considering my lifespan, is hurtling towards you faster and faster, even as we speak."

"You think that I haven't thought about that, either?"

"Certainly more than you should," Mikaela snapped. "That's the worst part. Knowing that you're going to outlive everyone….you, Sam….Trina."

"Fisher said the same thing."

"Fisher doesn't know shit," Mikaela replied sourly. "He's full of it."

Her father was silent. They both were, Mikaela processors racing. Outside, the soft patter of rain could be heard against the roof, the sound of soldiers bustling in the hallways blending in with a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning.

"He want's a war, you know," her father whispered. "A real one. Human's against Cybertronians."

"What, are you and Fisher so extremely _tight_ now that he tells you all his secrets?" Mikaela didn't wait for him to reply. Leaning on the palms of her hands, she said, "What other crap has he told you?"

No response.

Mikaela got a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach, something she hadn't had in a long, long time. She watched her father, scanned him, saw that his heartbeat had accelerated and his palms were sweaty, and indication that he was refusing to speak the truth. As a human, she had never picked up on the visibly cues, but now, they were as easy to see as reading a map.

"It was all _his_ fault."

He was breaking down, tears beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He shook his head, sniffed, and tried to regain his composure though his hands were trembling and his face was red.

"Who? _Megatron_?" Mikaela shot forward.

A shake of the head.

"They were after the boy," he finally said. "Sam…Witwitty or…"

"Witwicky."

"Yeah. _Him_," Mikaela watched her father stand up, craning his neck to meet her optics. "That big mech…the one they presented at the rally….I think his name was Barricade. They sent him after Witwicky and…"

She remembered that day, a day like any other. But she and Sam were fighting and, unknown to them both, the fight would take a sudden, awful turn. She remembered the fire, the screaming and the blood and the metal, most of it blotted out, for Mikaela's horrible mindmate was doing her best to try and shut it away.

But she remembered enough.

"Why…why would he go after Sam?" Mikaela asked, eyes narrowed, thoughts flying so fast that they threatened to crash her processors. It was as if someone had pierced her head with an arrow, the disbelief just as unbelievable painful.

"Why wouldn't he?" Her father replied. "Who else on Earth had gotten up-close and personal with the Autobot faction? Who else had revived Optimus Prime and saved the world twice? Whose N.E.S.T one crucial civilian link, the messenger who tells them what to do and who to trust?"

The horror, the absolute realization, the truth of it all, was robbing Mikaela of her words.

"Fisher keeps Barricade around like some kind of pet. But their business partners really, and they struck a deal. Fisher probably amped up Barricade's security in return for that one little task," he shook his head in disgust, and Mikaela could see the anger and despair flashing in his eyes. "He wasn't going for you. You just happen to be caught in the crossfire."

Mikaela didn't speak.

_Couldn't_ speak.

But she did storm out of the training room, away from her father's shouts.

"I'm sorry!" he had broken down and was crying, big, heavy sobs and useless confessions. "I'm sorry I didn't…tell you sooner. I'm so sorry."

She kept walking.

She stormed past Optimus, who had emerged from his quarters. Who reached for her, grasped her arms and spun her around and tried to pull her with him, tried to speak to her, to calm her, but she wriggled out of his grip.

She ran away from him, disregarding his attempts to call her back.

She transformed down faster than she ever had before, skidded through the front gate, plowing past the human guards as she did so. Out into the rain, she drove, tires screeching across wet asphalt as she pulled out onto open road. She drove and she did not look back.

Fisher had to die. And she knew the one mech who thought the same.


	34. Body to Mind

"Quit pacing."

"I'm not going to quit pacing until we do something," Mikaela snarled. In front of her, Megatron raked his talons languidly across a slab of rock, sharpening his claws and staring at Mikaela with a less than amused expression.

Starscream was loitering back, hidden in the shadows, his red optics standing out the most. The moon seemed to cast an eerie glow on everything it illuminated, the shadows suddenly seeming as if they were going to jump out and strangle Mikaela.

Paranoia. It did that to people.

But Mikaela had every right to be paranoid, and she hoped Megatron knew the same. She was practically on the brink of combustion, fist clenched so hard that they hurt. And Megatron could see that, yet here he was, lounging back as if nothing were wrong?

Starscream….he would come to Mikaela's defense, right?

"Do what? You obviously aren't on board with my original plan, so I guess Starscream and I will just have to sit here and let you suffer," Megatron said, examining his talons. "It's not like there's anything else we can do."

Mikaela opened her mouth, and then closed it.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Don't use human sayings," Mikaela snapped. "They don't work well for you."

"My, my," Megatron purred. "Someone's a little riled up today."

"I am, and you know why," Mikaela replied bitterly. Yesterdays events came back to her in a tidal wave of anger, fear, hurt, and revenge. With a savage howl, she lashed out and kicked the nearest rock, sending it tumbling and bouncing down the cliff and into the ravine below. Her head whipped around and she turned on Megatron, then Starscream.

"What do you want us to do?"

"Carry out the plan," Mikaela said. "I don't care, as long as he suffers."

It were the words Megatron was waiting for, and he eased up with a groan, gesturing for Starscream and Mikaela to approach. Reluctantly, Mikaela knelt beside his massive frame, gulping at the way he gently touched her back, an icy talon running down her spine.

"Don't touch me," she said coolly.

He did not recoil, and instead ignored Mikaela and said, "Listen carefully, my devoted little followers."

Mikaela shivered.

"This is dangerous," Starscream murmured.

"No shit, Sherlock," Mikaela replied. "We're sneaking into enemy territory, here."

"Enemy territory run by _humans_," Megatron pointed out. "Remember that well. They are nothing but insects beneath out feet. Fisher's political position and financial dominance mean nothing to us."

"They have Barricade," Mikaela remembered suddenly, her head shooting up, fingers digging into the ground as the thought of ways to incapacitate the mech, to strangle him, stab him, shoot him, something. He was just at fault as Fisher way, having had the opportunity to pick a side long ago.

"So? He has turned into the very beings he was built to despise," Megatron spat. "Fleshlings. He sided with one of them, and therefore he is as weak as one of them."

"He was a coward then, and he still is now," Starscream added, raising a finger.

Mikaela gave a small snort at the hypocrisy of Starscream's words. He was the last person she would expect to comment about cowardice. He practically lived by it.

"All insults aside," she said, "How are we getting in? Go up and knock on the front door? Starscream and I saw it myself; they have guards and security camera's all over the place."

Megatron narrowed his eyes. "When were you alone with Starscream?"

Mikaela brushed the matter away by saying, "it isn't important. What important is the plan."

"Your Prime would be proud," Starscream suddenly said, "making plans as if you were the one in charge. His leadership habits have rubbed off on you."

Mikaela was silent. And then, her words laced with an eerie emptiness, said, "yes. They have."

Megatron cleared his throat. "These are _humans_. Weak little bags of flesh. The compound is small, and I don't trust Starscream's overview of the security. I need to see it for myself to judge."

Starscream made an annoyed little noise in the back of his throat, with Megatron promptly silenced with a shove to the chest.

"Our biggest obstacle will be the Autobots," Megatron continued. "Fisher, no matter how arrogant–"

"Sound like someone I know," Mikaela muttered.

"– and pitiful he is, he has the sense to know when he's been had," Megatron tapped his chin. "And we want him _alive_."

"Preferably dead. But we'll see how it goes," Mikaela cut in, her fingers slick against the nighttime dew on the ground. The sudden change of events had her processors cooking up whole new plans even worse than the previous ones.

Mikaela sunk back and Megatron continued so speak, piecing together the puzzle faster than Mikaela would have ever hoped. She thought of Trina, and Optimus, and Ratchet.

So, so disappointed they would be. She told herself that they wouldn't understand, that this wasn't their fight.

No. This….whatever it was between her and Fisher….this was personal. She longed to speak to the man, the sickeningly handsome human with the honey voice and all the money. Not Optimus. Not Ratchet. Certainly not Trina.

"We aren't hurting anyone other than Fisher," Mikaela said.

"What?" Megatron's head turned briskly. It was one of those moments where he wasn't speaking because he hadn't heard, but because he was giving Mikaela a chance to change what she had said. But Mikaela didn't budge, didn't slink back down and cover her head with her hands like a scared little puppy.

"No one working for the Brotherhood is innocent, you fool," Starscream barked. He shot Megatron a look, and the Deception leader replied with a wave of a talon.

"Leave us," he said. "Circle the compound and see what you can see."

With a bow of his head, Starscream eased back and then, with a bellow of his thrusters, kicked up a cloud of dirt as he transformed, roared away into the night. The blast of heat buffered the grass and sent wet leaves flying.

"Now that out indigenous idiot has left us, I'll ask you again," Megatron leaned forward. "What did you say?"

"I said that nobody else is getting hurt. Or killed," Mikaela picked grass of her armor. "There's a difference."

"I know the different, you blithering imbecile," Megatron snarled. "I want to know why? Do you still think of yourself as one of _them_?"

"I never said that."

Megatron's hand shot out and caught her jaw, spinning her back so her head slammed into the grass.

"You are a fool."

"I'm trying to do the right thing," Mikaela grunted, inching up slowly. Megatron was over her, though, an iron talon clamping around her throat and lifting her up. Throat constricted, Mikaela managed, "Something that you've had the opportunity to do."

"There is a thin line between morality and immorality. It just depends on where you draw it," Megatron slammed her back down, hovering over her like a demon questing for a new soul to devour, to destroy….

And he was after hers. Mikaela struggled, fought, but his grip was to strong. His lip plates brushed across her audio receptors, one talon coming to tenderly touch her chest plates.

"She was always talking about 'doing the right thing,'" he whispered. "She believed that her way was the right way."

"Monogamy has a way of getting to people," Mikaela wheezed.

"It wasn't me. Or Prime," Megatron released Mikaela, and the smaller Cybertronian struggled to her feet. Megatron, too, was standing. "It was her," he tapped the side of his head. "Roadrunner wasn't like the others."

"How so?" Mikaela asked sullenly.

"She lived in her _head_. To her, body and mind were separate," Megatron gazed into the sky, optics searching for Starscream. He seemed to want the Seeker to return, to give him someone else _other_ than Mikaela to pound.

"A body is just a body," Mikaela breathed.

"Has she been telling you that? No doubt she wants you to convert to her ways."

"But that's not what I believe."

"It's what she believes," Megatron gave a sad smile and reached out, brushing a talon against Mikaela's temple. "And she is a part of you."

Starscream chose that moment to drop out of the sky like a bird of prey, landing in front of Mikaela, causing the ground to shake. His armor was caked in dew, the liquid dripping down his wings, which he twitched, ridding himself of the moisture.

"Nice flight?" Mikaela inquired.

He shot her a dirty look. "I've had nicer. The compound, believe it or not, is clear of any guards. Given my expertise in technology, I should be able to disable the security camera in a matter of seconds."

Mikaela inhaled a gulp of air and glanced at Megatron.

"Remember what I told you," he whispered in her ear.

"I'll never forget it," Mikaela said, watching the two mech's leap into the air, each transformation quick and full of finesse. Mikaela transformed down, engine revving, a blast of heat, rocking the air around her.

**"Let's kick."**


	35. Revenge of the Machine

The complex was aglow, even at night, its headlights sweeping back and forth over the parking lot as Mikaela pulled into it. It was the same one she and Starscream had spied on, the same one she and Trina had entered just months earlier.

But less crowded and much, much more eerie and dark. The atmosphere seemed thick with Mikaela's anticipation as her tires shifted against hard asphalt. Her lights were off and she had parked herself in the corner, driving up unnoticed. As if there were anyone to notice her. No guards stood poised at the gates, and as she glanced up, she saw that the security camera's had barely missed her.

They would be online. But not for long.

**"Now that I think about it," **Starscream commed suddenly, soaring through the clouds, so high that Mikaela couldn't see him. **"This is a very, very bad idea."**

**"You went along with it. You stick it through," **Mikaela replied bitterly. She waited, and Megatron spoke up, his words clipped and precise.

**"Exactly."**

**"See? The bringer of chaos agrees. Man up."**

A snort carried through the link, but other than that, Starscream was silent. Good for him, Mikaela thought. Good for him to just sit back and relax and let the real people do the work. He didn't know humans like Mikaela did. He hadn't_ been_ one of them.

But even then, a feeling of dread was beginning to settle around Mikaela as she sat, practically perched on her axels, ready to floor it and shoot forward at a moments notice. More than once the searchlights swept over her rigid frame, yet an alarm did not blare. She could hear the camera's zooming in, but still, whoever was watching did not recognize the sleek Nissan and raise alert.

**"I'm getting a little anxious here."**

**"Patience, Mikaela," **Megatron cooed. **"You will have your revenge soon."**

**"Not soon enough," **she replied. **"Starscream? Circle back around and hit it hard."**

Mikaela heard the jet before she saw him. He streaked overhead, tilting his wings and then, in one, disquieting move sent out an electromagnetic wave just like the one in Egypt.

The lights atop the complex blinked out immediately. Then the overhead searchlight that had fallen upon Mikaela one to many times. The lights on the security camera's blinked once, and then died.

Chaos was what they wanted. Mikaela was parked beside Fisher's main vehicle, revving her engine as she waited for the explosion of activity, the shouts and hollers as the men inside realized that they had been robbed of their power. She needed to see him run outside, through the gate, towards his vehicle. No doubt they would escort him somewhere else and dub everything as an attack.

It was, and that was the plan.

But nothing was happening. The complex was as quiet as the air around Mikaela, inactive, not one shred of movement.

**"Hit it again," **Mikaela said to Starscream, who sailed past her, the heat from his engine buffeting the air around her. With a startled grunt, she said, **"And watch it."**

**"If it didn't work once, it won't work a second time," **Starscream responded, his words laced with dread. **"You and Megatron will have to follow through on foot."**

As if on cue, Megatron dropped out of the sky, landing beside Mikaela. Mikaela yelped and then, trying to hold off the agitation, transformed. Beside her, Megatron was eying the gate with distaste, as if it were a poisonous snake coiled to strike.

"We walk through that gate, we might never come out," Mikaela breathed.

Megatron shook his head and said, "Us against them? Whose more likely to come out on top? I've seen your valor, Mikaela, and needless to say, you would not disappoint in the midst of a battle."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Mikaela grunted, stepping forward, towards, and then, over the gate. Megatron followed, and as soon as her feet hit the grass, she readied her weapons.

The courtyard was empty. As Mikaela and Megatron walked, leaving massive footprints in the grass, Mikaela felt her shoulders tense and her processors pick up the slightest hint of a heartbeat.

Just a squirrel. It flew across the lawn, and up the side of the building where it stood, as if ready to watch the show.

**"This place gives me the creeps," **she said to Starscream, who didn't respond, but just turned his wings and made another round circling the complex above the distant clouds.

**"For once, I agree," **Megatron added.

**"You were the one who picked this place."**

**"And you were the one who agreed to it."**

Mikaela was silent. He was right; she had agreed to carry out his plans. Out of sheer rage, maybe? Or out of common sense. Unlike Optimus, she got the big picture. Fisher was way to dangerous to be left around, unsupervised, free to bribe the government with empty promises. If he got what he wanted, then Autobots and Decepticon's alike would be fighting another war.

But instead of fighting for Earth, they would be fighting against it. Mikaela knew a upcoming revolutionary leader when she saw one, and Fisher qualified for the position quite easily.

"What are you thinking about?" Megatron suddenly breathed in Mikaela's audio receptors, just as she avoided stepping on an sparking water fountain.

"How fucked up my life has turned out to be."

And then, all hell broke loose.

For once, images and emotions flashed through Mikaela so fast that she didn't have time to comprehend them. Megatron shoved her to the side – away from the explosion that rang in her ears, she presumed – and they both went tumbling to the side, Megatron dead weight against her body.

Screaming. The lights burst on in a flash, and Mikaela had to shield her optics as the glow practically penetrated through her.

Mikaela saw Megatron lash out. With a swipe of a claw, he sent a group of frantic humans sailing through the air as if they had been shot out of a cannon.

"No! I told you that we were only going after Fisher!"

"These scum are just as guilty!"

"No! Mega–"

A blast of pain, a blast of blinding-hot agony just below her spark robbed her of whatever words she was going to say next. The humans surrounded her, swarmed around she and Megatron like ants. It was madness.

And they were shooting at them. The gunfire pierced Mikaela's audio receptors, each bullet like a punch in the gut.

Megatron lunged again and this time the humans scattered, Megatron's talons crushing their bone and muscle as if it were as light and feeble as that of a bird.

Cars spun into view, unloading soldiers left and right.

**"Starscream!"**

Starscream fell from the sky like a bird of prey, wings flaring, thrusters screeching him to a sudden halt as he dug his pedes into the roof of a car, and then, with one hard push, soared back into the air.

He let go, and the car fell.

Mikaela fell back as another shot slammed into her leg, knocking her to her knees. Starscream's horrendous assault had been so quick, so well timed and full of finesse that it had Mikaela gaping.

But there was not time for observing.

Mikaela saw him out of the corner of her eye, a group of his followers escorting him away from the battle.

Mikaela lunged, away from the gunfire, away from the humans, away from Megatron, whose pleas barely pierced her audio receptors. He and his followers were ushering him into a building, and Mikaela wasted not time in slamming straight through the brick, careening into a hallway, shoulders and head bashing the lights.

Fisher and his men fell. Chunks of mortar sailed over their startled faces, and in the background, she heard an injured human scream.

Fisher's guards were crying out, too, not used to dealing with a monstrosity such as Mikaela. One of them opened fire, but his shots were wild, and as he fell on his back Mikaela brushed him to the side as if he were a leaf stuck to her armor.

And then she went for the prize. The one she wanted was now running, straight ahead of her, his arms pumping. Already tiring, Mikaela could see. He slowed as he rounded the corner, out of her sight.

She slammed into the apposite wall and the impact knocked Fisher off his feet. He hit the ground hard. Rolled, feet scrambling against the squeaky surface of the tiled floors, got to his feet and ran down the long hallway.

Mikaela ran after him, crouched low, talons ready.

He turned a corner, almost fell, and kept running.

Mikaela's processors were split in half. One side, the sane side of her mind, screamed at her to stop. The other part, bound to Roadrunners will, screamed at her to find the fleshy and rip him to pieces.

She slipped on a loose tile and fell to one knee, roaring and then rearing back up, her head smashing against the ceiling.

Her vision went fuzzy but she kept on running.

She didn't see Fisher, though. He had run out into the main courtyard, out the double doors, probably yelling to his guards. Mikaela didn't doubt that Megatron was somewhere among the fray, probably destroying the other half of the headquarters while Starscream worked his way out from the inside.

**"Femme, have you lost your processors?" **Megatron's voice bellowed in her ear. **"This is supposed to be an undercover mission!"**

**"Change of plans," **Mikaela replied.

**"Fall back, you fool!"**

Starscream's voice cut through the link, shrill and demanding. **"Leave her be, sire! Her intentions are reasonable!"**

**"What do _you_ know about reasonable, you insufferable little failure?" **Megatron snarled.

**"Just let me do my thing, guys," **Mikaela skidded to a halt at the end of the hallway, bracing herself on one foot. Casually, she rammed her shoulder into a nearby wall, astounded by how her arms didn't scream in pain. The wall cracked and fell. Rolling her armored shoulder, Mikaela stepped out into the cool night air.

Darkness. The building ahead of her was some kind of generator, she realized, humming dangerously.

**"Where's Fisher?" **

**"The human is none of your concern, femme," **Megatron said. **"The Autobots are on their way. Unless you want to face Optimus Prime, I suggest that you retreat."**

Mikaela bit her lip plates. Optimus meant Ratchet. And Ratchet meant Ironhide, who wouldn't hesitate to blast her into space dust.

But Optimus wouldn't, would he? This wasn't about him. Well, it kind of was about him, but even if he was a backstabbing liar, he didn't deserve to be caught in _this _crossfire.

For the first time, Optimus was a bystander.

**"You two go if you must, but Fisher is going _down_."**

And then Mikaela shut of her comlink.


	36. Human Component

**I know, I'm updating fast. The reason is that there's one more chapter left after this, and I'm kind of sort of in a rift. My muse is half-dead.**

**So, enjoy the second to last chapter and don't forget to review!**

**I don't own it.**

* * *

><p>She kept on running, bounding across the courtyard, recognizing the familiar spot where she and Trina had stood, listening to Fisher proclaim his plan to exile the Autobots once and for all. She snarled, remembering Trina's face, the image disappearing when she saw movement up ahead.<p>

Fisher was crouched against the wall of a building, his shirt torn and his eyes wild. When he saw Mikaela, he shrieked tried to dart to the side, only to find himself pinned down by one of Mikaela's talons.

He writhed and squirmed, tried to shout but faltered when he met Mikaela's devilish eyes.

"Eyes of the devil," he hissed. "You will pay for what you have done."

"No," she whispered. "_You're_ going to pay."

She was going to kill him. Abandon Megatron's "genius" plan and kill him right now, right here on this very spot. Sever his manipulative hold on the government and end a war that hadn't even started.

Show him once and for all that nobody, and she meant nobody, fucked with Mikaela Banes.

Her fist stopped inches from his writhing, squirming fleshy body when something slammed into her shoulder. She fell forward, releasing Fisher and bracing her hands on the wall so she could slide to her knees. Her shoulder was smoking, sparks flying, and she gritted her teeth to shut out the pain.

Humans were shouting behind her.

The police car skidded into view and in one, writhing performance of twisting metal and joints, the car transformed into Barricade. He bounded and drove a shoulder into Mikaela's abdomen, sending her sailing over Fisher and smashing into a nearby fountain.

As she struggled to her feet, the humans around her scattered. Some dropped their weapons in a desperate attempt to flee the ensuing battle, while others scrambled away slowly, too slowly, for Mikaela brushed them to the side.

Barricade, who hovered over Fisher protectively, swiveled his head and snarled, blue spittle flying from his mouth.

"You want to dance, you big, stupid traitor?" Mikaela sneered. She shifted back into a stance, the very stance Ironhide had taught her, and gestured for Barricade to come. "Then let's dance."

Barricade didn't need any more encouragement. He was on Mikaela in a sparkbeat, and though he had more experience in combat than Mikaela, Mikaela was fueled by a blind rage that partly belonged to Roadrunner. She twisted his arm and gained the upper hand, all tactic abandoned as her talons cut through wires, fresh energon spilling from the wounds.

Barricade roared and kicked her off. Mikaela fell, hard, and before she could right herself, Barricade thrust his gun up under her chin.

_BLAM._

The shot was like the end of the world. Mikaela was able to jerk the gun away at the last minute, and the shot erupted in front of her face, the flash of blinding hot, white light causing her to falter and she lost a precious second.

Barricade swung his arm, the muzzle of his gun catching her in the side of the head.

Stunned. Dizzy and disoriented, Mikaela lurched away from Barricade, slamming into a wall.

**"Megatron!"**

**"Got yourself stuck in a rut, Mikaela? I'm surprised you, of all people, would need my help."**

Barricade lunged, but was promptly thrown to the side by a fury induced Megatron, who wasted no time in overpowering the smaller mech. The two went tumbling, out of sight.

**"Get out of here!" **Megatron growled, and through the link, there came a grunt and a curse.

Mikaela ran away, tripping over her own two feet because her legs wouldn't work right, and there was thick, blue blood pouring from a damaged audio receptor. The pain was overwhelming, as if someone were driving a spike into her head over and over and over. The agony kept her from thinking clearly and more than once she felt something squish under her feet, and she would stop herself from hurting the innocent, if only she _could_ think.

_No, not innocent. They spread the hate! _Mikaela could feel Roadrunner bouncing up and down with glee. _Kill them! Smash them! Show them who they're messing with!_

Mikaela felt her foot slam into the nearest Suburban, watching in roll and bounce across the grass and sail clear over the head of Fisher, who, in a state of panic, had dropped to the ground.

Gunfire. Mikaela felt each little modified bullet slam into her armor – _through_ her armor, and she stumbled.

She turned her comlink back on, sending out a message.

**"Starscream!"**

She didn't have to call twice. The jet dropped out of the sky, thrusters on, switching into bipedal mode and swooping down again. He lifted another car, just like last time.

Starscream simply carried the car away.

Mikaela stared, and then snapped back into the fight when a projectile slammed into her armor.

**"You_ stupid _femme! Get out of there!" **Megatron roared. His voice was laced with static, and even though he hadn't said it, she could feel Optimus. The Autobots were here, and Mikaela wasn't sure they would like what they would find. Megatron's voice was almost a plea now, as he spoke to her. **"_Retreat_. That's an order."**

Mikaela ran. Kicked away a car and watched as if skidded into a wall. The humans inside screamed as the windshield blew out.

_Too many of them on this pathetic planet. On dies, another is born a second later, _Roadrunner hissed.

Mikaela ran.

_Coward._

_Shut up._

She was almost at the gate, almost to freedom, when a thousand pounds of red and blue metal slammed into her from the side.

She was knocked off her feet as Optimus tackled her, a scream tearing at her throat.

And suddenly, she found a sword pressed up against her neck, digging under her chin.

She went rigid, her joints going limp as she lay under Optimus, trying not to move or speak or do anything.

"You want to tell me what in the name of _Primus_ you are doing here, Mikaela?" he snarled. "What washed over your processors to make you even consider - "

"This has nothing to do with you!" Mikaela pressed her hands against his chest plates and shoved. Of course, he didn't budge. "Just….just get out of here."

"It has everything to do with me, Mikaela!" he hissed. Mikaela sunk back into the grass for a moment, never having heard him speak with such suppressed anger. His optics swirled with anger, sadness, and unbearable pain. "I was responsible for you! It was my duty to protect you from…."

"Your duty?"

"Yes…." He faltered. He rolled off Mikaela, the noise of the battle behind them seeming to fade away. He still had his sword pressed against her throat, but not as hard. "I promised Sam…."

"Promised him?" Mikaela laughed. "Haven't you promised enough?"

"I protect what I must protect. It is my duty. And _you_ have been_ my_ responsibility, regardless of what Sam has to say."

Mikaela felt her chest tighten as his optics looked down at her, pleading, begging for her to understand and though she did she didn't feel like revealing it just yet. Instead, she leaned back and said, "Listen, Prime," Mikaela breathed, reaching up to caress his metal cheek. "I love you to death, but this was my decision."

"I can't help but fear it has something to do with me."

"Once again, you think that it's all about_ you_," Mikaela laughed aloud, her voice blending in with the sounds of metal against metal and the"Mikaela…." He begged.

"I'm making my own decisions from now on, alright?" She snapped. "Decepticon, Autobot, they're all the same to me. Don't think I'm ditching you for Megatron, like _she _did," Mikaela's eyes softened, and Optimus' optics brimmed with something akin to tears. "I would never do that. He just happens to be taking the same path as myself, focusing on the same goals."

"He will bring you nothing but pain, Mikaela," Optimus' grip on Mikaela's leg slackened, and the femme was able to escape from his grip and stand.

"I'm used to pain. You should know that by now."

Optimus gave her the saddest look imaginable, and that was when Mikaela saw his walls crumble. His expression was that of a billion years of loss and suffering, of agony and self-loathing. Mikaela couldn't bear to look at that expression any longer.

So she transformed, drove away, and did not look back.


	37. Queen of the Machine

In less than twenty- four hours, Mikaela Banes was famous.

Of course, she wasn't known as Mikaela Banes. She was known for the notorious Decepticon, Roadrunner, henchman of Megatron, comrade of Air Commander Starscream.

Murderer. Destroyer.

It was all over the networks. The strange attack on the Brotherhood HQ, footage of three Cybertronians transforming and speeding away, fast, but not fast enough that the news camera's couldn't get it all on video.

In less than twenty-four hours, she, Megatron, and Starscream were on every news station, on the internet, on YouTube and everywhere else.

It was insane.

"Check it again," Megatron drawled.

"Checking it won't make it go away," Starscream muttered, but alas, a flicker of light rolled across his eyescreen. He shook his head and went back to toying with the side of Mikaela's head, trying desperately to fix her damaged audio receptors. But Starscream was not a medic, and when he had mentioned Scalpel, Mikaela had furiously shook her head, memories of the horrible doctor washing over her like a wave.

"Can we at least delete the footage? Hijack the networks and delete it all?" Starscream asked twisting his head to cast a somewhat disgusted glance in Megatron's direction. The leader was lounging back against a gigantic redwood tree, picking pine leaves and dried dirt off his armor.

"I don't know if this is true, its just my theory," Mikaela raised her hands and said, "The internet probably has more modules than the human brain. And not to mention the network, and, of course, verbal information. Even beings as advanced as ourselves wouldn't be able to wipe it all the information away."

"Are you sure about that?" Starscream murmured in her ear, Mikaela wincing when the tip of his talons began to finger the wires up under her armor, tweaking them this way and that.

"I don't know why you, of all people, wouldn't want to dispel your spotlight," Mikaela replied, chuckling. "Isn't attention what you've always longed for?"

Starscream didn't respond to that.

"It's not the attention, it's the consequences," Megatron said. "The Brotherhood was able to get the better of us this time, and that was only one pitiful organization. _Earth _is going to be seeking vengeance this time, not just the Brotherhood."

"So you want to hide?" Mikaela scoffed, turning to stare into his big red optics.

"Precisely. Just until I can organize my men. I'm sure most scattered after the Brotherhood incident," Megatron leaned up and said with a sigh, "A shame."

"Starscream should be of some help in the cowardice compartment," Mikaela called, grinning. She didn't disagree with him, she didn't know why she would. Going back to Optimus at this point was insane, not to mention Fisher was still at large and temping the government.

Mikaela was sure he had a few words to say about the matter.

"I novel idea, Mikaela," Megatron turned to Starscream, baring his dripping incisors. He said, "Tell me, Starscream, what would you have done in such a predicament?"

Starscream gulped, and Mikaela could see the gears whirring in his head as he desperately tried to come up with an answer. Finally, he opened his mouth and said, "I would take from what Barricade did."

"Hide behind a company? Stoop to his level?" Mikaela threw back her head and laughed.

And then, her laugh died when she realized that Megatron was staring at his second-in-command with….understanding? Mikaela made a noise of disbelief in the back of her throat, saying, "You're really not considering this, are you?"

"Again, Starscream, you've come up with a plan that is completely idiotic–"

"– not to mention delusional, humiliating, and a disgrace to our species," Mikaela added.

"But it actually might work."

Two jaws dropped. Starscream's disbelief at his master acceptance was portrayed by the way he made a small whine, and then looked at Mikaela for support. Mikaela just shrugged and gazed at Megatron, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"Optimus knows me better than any of you," Megatron's optics were cold, and he waved at talon at Starscream, and then Mikaela. "He knows that I would never bend to the will of a human."

"It's the one thing he wouldn't expect from us," Mikaela said, the recognition dawning on her. She glanced at Starscream and said, "I'm impressed."

"We're smarted than you think," Starscream replied, tapping the side of his helm. "Selective intelligence. It's what makes us better than the meatbags."

"I wouldn't call it that," Mikaela murmured, then glanced at Megatron. He had leaned back and was looking even more smug than before, the pieces of the puzzle having fallen into place just as he had planned. Mikaela could see the pride twinkling in his deep red optics, and she folded her hands across her lap and tried to look a little proud.

She had to shut out the guilt, she told herself. This was her life, her world, her decisions. She wasn't like the others.

Everything, in the blink of an eye, had been taken away from her.

"We just have to find a commendable client. Mikaela, you're more in tune with human corporations than any of us," Megatron jerked a chin in her direction. "Any suggestions?"

She had one, but she didn't want to say it. It tugged at the back of her mind, the conversation with the one human female who knew her best coming back to her, about a little girl who spent all her time away from a family that barely paid her any attention.

And that, in itself, worked to Mikaela's advantage. She didn't want to risk crushing anyone more than she already had.

"Come now, don't be shy," Megatron purred.

Mikaela steeled herself and said, "Have any of you heard of Jude Garrison?"

* * *

><p>"We leave tomorrow," Megatron stepped over a recharging Starscream, kneeling in front of Mikaela, who had her back pressed against a tree.<p>

"Tomorrow?"

"We can't risk staying in one place for too long. Most of our bases have been overrun by Autobots, and we need to get to safety as quickly as possible," Megatron glanced at Starscream. "You and – believe it or not – Starscream are the only ones I trust now. No one else."

"It's because we're on board with everything you say."

"It's because you both have sense. One more than the other, but what can you say?" Megatron chest rose and fell as he gave a sickening chuckle, reaching over and flicking Starscream in the back of the helm. The winged mech didn't even flinch at the contact.

"I say that this is all bullshit. My life, _your_ life, everything. I feel like I'm in one, gigantic, open air asylum."

"That will change soon."

"Yeah, right," Mikaela waved a hand. "It will be a miracle if Garrison takes us in."

"You have ties with his daughter. We could, if possible, use her as leverage," Megatron fell back on his rear, leaning beside Mikaela. Their shoulder barely brushed and Mikaela could already feel a spark, a flash of heat at the center of her core.

_Stop that,_ she told Roadrunner.

_You know you want him. You know that he wants you, and that should be enough._

Mikaela made a noise of disgust and replied to Megatron, "No. No leverage. We're playing this safe, no matter how difficult it may be."

"Are you processors malfunctioning?" Megatron suddenly hissed. "What about this is _safe_?"

"The part where we make the right decisions and make sure nobody else gets hurt," Mikaela replied, optics glinting red. She bared her own teeth and snarled, "I can't risk any more lives. I can't risk being called a….."

"A _what_? A monster? An_ alien_?" Megatron barked a short laugh. "_Human _slur should mean nothing to you."

"Why?"

"Because we use it as well," Megatron replied. "Fleshling. Meatbag. Pathetic little balls of flesh and bone and acid. We use these words because they are _true_."

"But we're not monsters."

Megatron tilted his head back and looked up at the stars, a sad, sad expression overtaking his cold demeanor. Mikaela watched as he sighed, his finger reaching over to touch her thigh.

For once, Mikaela did not shrink away.

"It's how you hold yourself that matters. Roadrunner, in particular, was exposed to a peculiar way of living."

Mikaela remembered the vision, the cackling head and Roadrunner father as he yelled after her.

"Roadrunners father invented the download tech," she looked up at Megatron. "Right?"

"He offlined before it was ever finished."

"Then how…."

"Ratchet stole it eons ago, just after his death. You should give the doctor some credit for acclimating it to," Megatron laughed. "But its not who made it, it's what it was intended to be used for."

"Transplants. A body gets old, or wounded, you just shove the mind and spark into a new one. It was like a religion to Roadrunners father," Megatron didn't bother to hide his disgust. He continued, "And he passed it on to his youngling. The belief that a body is just a body, that the mind is the only thing that matters. And because of her father, it's what most of the Decepticons stand by."

_That's what separates us from the humans, _Roadrunner cut in. _Not our size, or our strength, but from the fact that we live inside our minds. Even if you were to shrink us down to human size, then we would still be better._

"But I'm not like that," Mikaela said softly. "I'm not her."

"You are in more ways than you think. Roadrunner was manipulative, deceitful. Lied to me by going off to have nice, long frags with Optimus. And vice versa. But even then, her actions had _some _virtue. She was able to lie and cheat to protect the ones she cared about," Megatron looked down at her. "Just like you did to 'protect' your father."

Mikaela gulped.

"I'm not like her."

The more she said, the more Mikaela realized that it wasn't true.

Megatron only smiled, standing to go back over to his redwood. Mikaela watched him lean against it, his optics slowly dimming until they were nothing but dark orbs.

Mikaela stayed awake.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be true. Everything that had happened, the crash, her transformation, was the result from a single mech, eons ago, trying to make a difference.

But Megatron was wrong about the humans. They weren't weak, they were just different. More similar to Cybertronians than any other species in the solar system, and Mikaela could see that, so why couldn't Megatron?

He was just like Fisher in so many ways that it made Mikaela want to gag.

And Sam, oh, even Sam had seen it at one time. He just couldn't take it, and had left. Left her, because she had become something _different_. Typical prejudice.

But Mikaela couldn't blame Sam, after all he had seen. She couldn't blame any of the mech's; Ratchet, Ironhide….Optimus. It wasn't their fault all this had happened, and it never would be. She just hoped they understood the human component of things, that even if Cybertronians felt with their minds, and humans felt with their bodies, held themselves a little differently, _looked_ a little different, that they weren't weak or monsters or pathetic, that they couldn't help it.

It was just the way they were built.

* * *

><p><strong>That's the end! Thank you all who reviewed for sticking with me this long, I really appreciate it. I hope the ending didn't stink to bad, but...ah well. It was fun to write!<strong>

**Over and Out  
><strong>


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